The Consulting Detective and His Pathologist
by pinkrosepictures
Summary: What happens at the morgue, stays at the morgue ...sometimes. A collection of cute Sherlock/Molly moments - New Chapter is up, that's right I'm back! and someone else is, too...
1. Rabbit

_Not my characters (if they were this would actually happen...every day...)_

_This is the first in a series of many Sherlock/Molly moments, and I promise that every single one is going to make you smile, and possibly trigger some "Awwws...", 'cause that's just how I roll._

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><p>"Molly, you're here..." Sherlock noted as he entered the mortuary, he hadn't expected to run into the young pathologist today.<p>

"Actually, I was just about to head out, I'm..." She started to explain, as she picked up her her jacket, but immediately dropped the garment when she noticed the state of Sherlock's shirt. There was a rather big blood stain peeking out of his only halfway closed coat.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" She asked rushing over to him.

"It's not my blood," Sherlock took a step back, a reaction that triggered even more concern.

"Sherlock, what is going on?"

"This has to stay between us. Do you understand?"

Molly just nodded, she had been too concerned to notice how he'd been cradling his arm, like he was protecting something under his coat, and even after he opened it it took her a second to realize what he was hiding - also because it was probably the last thing she had expected.

There was a tiny white bunny nestled in the consulting detective's arm. For a moment Molly wasn't even sure if the little animal was still alive, but when Sherlock carefully moved it to keep it from falling down, she noticed with relief that it was breathing.

"What happened?" Molly took another step towards Sherlock to get a better look at the bunny, and it's injuries, and discovered that the main source of the blood seemed to be a rather large gash on it's leg.

"The cut is pretty deep, it will need some stitches," Sherlock explained, deliberately ignoring Molly's question.

"We should take it to a vet," Molly said, her common sense kicking in after the surprise had worn off, she couldn't treat a bunny, or any animal for that matter, at the mortuary.

"Nonsense, we have everything we need here. Even a doctor," he would have preferred to do this alone, but since Molly was around he figured that he might as well take advantage of her medical training.

xxx

"That's it, your little friend is going to be as good as new," Molly said, fastening the bandage on the bunny's hurt leg.

"He's not my friend," Sherlock corrected her. "We're merely acquaintances."

"Okay, then your acquaintance is going to be as good as new, he just needs some rest."

"That's good then." After washing the blood off, they had discovered that the injury hadn't nearly been as bad as expected. But Sherlock had still spend the last ten minutes watching her with eagle eyes, making sure that she wouldn't hurt the bunny or overlook anything.

"What happened here?" When Molly wanted to pick the bunny up she noticed traces of blood on one of it's front paws.

"Dog blood. A doberman's to be specific," Sherlock replied with a proud look.

"You mean this little guy was attacked by a dog?" Molly asked, surprised that the animal was still alive after a fight with such a large opponent.

"No, it attacked a dog. The injury was acquired when it got stuck in the fence, after realizing it's own stupidity and making a run for it."

"Wow, that's quite the adventure," Molly carefully petted the bunny's soft fur.

"It was sweet of you to help," she added, looking up to face Sherlock.

"Well, even though it was stupid, I do admire bravery, and no one who can shut up my brother's idiot dog deserves to die in a fence."

"Your brother's dog?" Molly should have known that there had been more to the story.

"That beast was annoying me all morning, as if that ridiculous Easter breakfast hadn't already been tedious enough, but then this one here just jumped out, and almost scratched the big bad dog's eyes out. Maybe Mycroft should put the poor thing down before it dies of embarrassment," Sherlock couldn't help but smile at the though of the rather comical end to the festivities.

"That sounds terrible."

"Oh, you have no idea. I never understood the appeal of these holiday..."

"I didn't mean..." Molly interrupted him, but when she saw the confused look on his face, she decided that clearing the misunderstanding up wouldn't do any good, and moved on.

"So what's gonna happen to him now?"

"Well..." Sherlock started, realizing in astonishment that he didn't have an answer to Molly's question.

"You can keep him," he finally suggested.

"I have a cat," Molly reminded him.

"Right, that's a problem..."

"Why don't you just take him home for now? Until he gets better at least," Molly said, handing Sherlock the bunny. Seeking warmth and comfort, it immediately nestled against his chest.

"He's quiet, doesn't eat much, this might just work," Sherlock said to himself, while Molly made a mental note to tell John to keep an extra eye on the animal.

"Thank you Molly," He added ready to leave.

"Always," Molly replied, reaching out to pet the bunny one more time – blushing a little when her fingers brushed against Sherlock's hand.

"You were heading out," Sherlock suddenly said.

"What?"

"When I was coming in, you were putting your jacket on."

"Oh, just home. I had the night shift," she explained.

"I see," he nodded and turned around, but much to Molly's surprise he stopped at the door.

"Do you want to join me for a late breakfast. I know for a fact that Mrs Hudson made her famous Russian Easter bread, and I'm sure she'll be delighted to share."

"Do you mean that?"

"You saved my rabbit, it seems appropriate. So come on."

"Okay," Molly replied, and the consulting detective watched in amusement how the pathologist gathered her things and hurried to join him and his rabbit.

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><p><em>This story was inspired by a mechanical toy rabbit, that turned my grandparent's dog (a huge German Shepherd) into a nervous wreck. So I tweaked that story a little, gave Mycroft a dog, Sherlock a new friend, and you guys some Easter fluff ;)<em>

_...and about the Easter Bread, no one in my family's Russian, yet it's my favorite thing about Easter, so I had to include it haha._

_Also, does anyone else think of a Mad Hatter tea party when trying to picture a Holmes family breakfast? No? Just Me? ...Okay._

_Reviews make me smile ;)_


	2. Dance

"Careful!" Sherlock scolded the young pathologist. She had acted rather distrait all morning, but he hadn't cared much, at least not until her state had started to disturb his experiments.

"Sorry..." She apologized, picking up the petri dish she had just knocked over.

"It's alright, just fetch me a coffee, black, two..."

"I know..." with that she hurried out to fill his request, giving Sherlock a few minutes of peace.

But the moment she stepped back into the room, she tripped in her heels and spilled the hot beverage all over the floor.

"I'm so sorry, I'll get you another one..." she started looking for paper towels to soak up the mess.

"Leave it," Sherlock commanded. " What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"You are always nervous around me, but usually that doesn't entail you inflicting hazards upon me, and your workplace. So something must be bothering you."

"I'm sorry, I'm just..."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the sound of the by now a little too familiar words.

"Molly, please..."

"My cousin, he's getting married tomorrow. I'm in the wedding party, and there's gonna be dancing, and I missed all the rehearsals, and..."

"You can't dance," he finished her sentence. "Not really a surprise, considering your general grace."

"That's not true!" She defended herself, surprised about the strength in her own voice. "I just don't know the steps..."

"Well, then we better fix that before you accidentally blow up the whole lab," with that he got up and gathered his things.

"Your lunch break starts in 20 minutes."

"Yes," she replied a little confused.

"Great, find me at the back entrance." Before Molly got a chance to process what had just happened Sherlock was already out the door. Had the consulting detective really just offered her a dance lesson?

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><p>"There you are, come on," Not wanting to waste any time Sherlock immediately offered Molly his hand.<p>

"What here?" Molly asked, letting her eyes wander over the almost empty parking lot.

"There's plenty of space, and nothing you can trip over, except your own two feet. It's perfect," he explained and Molly just nodded, this certainly wasn't the ballroom she had imagined but it would have to do, except for...

"There's no music..."

"What do we need music for?" Tired of waiting, he simply grabbed her hand and pulled her in. Molly, surprised by the sudden force, lost her balance and stumbled into his arms.

"Sorry," she apologized, clutching his coat's lapel with her free hand.

"Just follow my lead," Sherlock said, noting that this was going to be a lot harder than expected.

They started with a simple Waltz, and Molly quickly realized that Sherlock seemed to approach dancing with the same focus and precision that he showed in the lab. Molly tried her best to keep up with his steps, but the sensation of his hand lingering on her back, paired with the fact that he was watching her like a hawk preparing to attack its bait, made it almost impossible.

"Sorry..." she mumbled as she fell out of step for the eleventh time within the last three minutes, to which Sherlock just reacted with a frustrated sigh, before fastening his grip on her - a big mistake.

For a moment they recovered from her latest mistake, but on the next spin Molly's foot came down hard on Sherlock's. He didn't complain, but the look of agony on it's face said it all.

"This was a horrible idea," Molly broke away from him and took a step back, as if her mere presence could physically harm him.

"Molly..." Sherlock started, "we're just dancing. And it will be much easier if you try to enjoy it." With that he slipped out of his coat, and threw it over the banister of the stairs behind him.

"So please, do relax." He held out his hand, this time patiently waiting for her to take it, before he carefully put his other one around her waist.

"I said relax," he gave her a stern look, as he felt her tense up again.

"Okay..." Molly nodded and took a deep breath.

"It's just dancing..." She said to herself, and before she knew what was happening they were once again gliding over the parking lot. Her first steps were still slightly awkward and hesitant, but as she looked up and saw Sherlock's reassuring smile she grew a little more confident, and finally found her rhythm.

"Where did you learn to dance like that?" She asked, breaking her concentration for a moment.

"Observation and practise, which you desperately need, so shut up."

"Okay," Molly nodded, following his advice.

There were still a few missteps here and there, but they generally danced beautifully and almost perfectly in sync. Becoming more and more comfortable with the movements, Molly stopped focussing on her feet and looked up to meet her partner's eyes. As she saw the look on his face she wondered with fascination how someone could look so relaxed, yet so intent and focused at the same time.

But Molly wasn't given a lot of time to wonder. When the imaginary music in Sherlock's head hit a peak, he let go of her and spun her around, before dipping her down, and then slowly pulling her up again – right up to his face. That's when the thunder rolled over them, immediately followed by heavy rain.

For a moment, they just stood there, ignoring the cold water that was falling down on them, but then Molly snapped out of her trance.

"We're gonna get sick," she reasoned.

"It's just a shower," he replied, determined to finish the lesson. He stepped back, and began to lead again. Settling back into the rhythm Molly noticed that Sherlock had increased their pace, following the beat of the rain.

As Sherlock swept her over the wet ground the dancing gradually became faster, harder, and more passionate, but despite the increased speed Molly didn't struggle to keep up with him; on the contrary, it was getting easier with every move. It was almost as if his grace and confidence had worn off on her.

The dance reached it's crescendo when Sherlock suddenly spun her around and pulled her back to him in one quick movement. And there they were. Bodies pressed together, hands still interlaced. The rain was the only thing that reminded Molly that they were still surrounded by trash bins an parked cars instead of an orchestra and other dancers.

"That will do," Sherlock stated, and Molly could feel his chest rising against hers, but before she could say anything they were interrupted by applause. They both looked to the side to make out the source of the acclamation, and found John standing under the small roof by the door.

"As beautiful as this is, you're gonna catch your death if you don't come in," John shouted over the sound of the rain.

"You heard my doctor," Sherlock said with a smile. "Now come on," with that he let go of her and lead the speechless pathologist back to the door, his hand still comfortably resting on the small of her back.

"What the hell were you doing?" John asked, handing Sherlock his soaked coat.

"Dancing, which - judging from your applause - was impeccable. Well done Molly."

"In the rain?" John still tried to process what he had just witnessed.

"Obviously," Sherlock replied, giving Molly a smile that she shyly returned.

"Obviously..." John mumbled ushering them inside, thinking that of all the weird and crazy things his flatmate had done, ballroom dancing with Molly Hoper in the pouring rain had definitely been the biggest surprise yet.

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><p><em>THANKS SO MUCH for all the sweet reviews on the Bunny chapter! You guys rock! And I hope you enjoyed this chapter just as much, or hopefully even more (...there's dancing...and rain...dancing in the rain! What's not to love about that? haha)<em>

_Love Laura _


	3. Closet

"This was a horrible idea..." Molly whispered, trying to step a little deeper into the cramped closet, but the man who had pulled her into that closet didn't leave much room for her.

At first the young pathologist had been ecstatic when the consulting detective had approached her about assisting him on a case because John was out of town. And things had gone well, until the suspect who's bedroom they had been searching had returned unexpectedly, forcing them to find a hiding place – and of course it had to be the small closet.

"Shhh!" He scolded her, and Molly obeyed. With her back against his chest, she could hear his calm and steady heartbeat, not to mention feel his breath on her neck, a sensation that brought her own heartbeat up to levels that would make a hummingbird jealous, but she could always blame that on the adrenalin.

"Turn around," he suddenly ordered, and before Molly knew what was happening, she felt his hands on her hips, spinning her around so that she was facing him. His arms wrapped around her waist, their bodies pressed together.

"Better," Sherlock said and Molly had to agree, it was more comfortable – but also a lot more intimate than before, she noted more than thankful for the darkness that hid her flushed cheeks.

After a few minutes of silence Sherlock shifted again.

"You know, you should really try to get that heartbeat of yours under control," he whispered, leaning in close enough for Molly to feel his soft lips brushing against her ear. So much for controlling that heartbeat.

Luckily their suspect hadn't entered the bedroom yet, and would hardly be able to hear them, but Sherlock was still concerned. Neither of them was armed, while the person on the other side of the door most likely was, so avoiding a confrontation, and waiting for the danger to pass was definitely the safest option – if Molly could manage to stay quiet.

"Sorry," she apologized, taking a deep breath. Why did he have to smell so good when there was a potentially dangerous murder suspect in the next room?

"Relax."

"Easier said than done," Molly replied, earning herself another hissed reminder to be quiet.

As the minutes passed Molly grew somewhat accustomed to their current position. Resting her head against his chest, her own heartbeat had regulated itself a little so that it was almost in sync with his. Her mind however was still racing, wondering how much longer this would last...and what would happen next.

She was so deep in thought that she didn't even notice the sound of the bedroom door opening. But It didn't go past Sherlock. He tightened his grip on her to make her aware of the approaching danger, but Molly misinterpreted the warning and opened her mouth to protest...

Now Sherlock's mind was the one racing. Aware of the misunderstanding, he needed to come up with a way to tell Molly to be quiet, without actually telling her.

The tight space didn't allow him to cover her mouth with his hand, so there was only one logical answer, and with that his lips crashed down on hers, meeting them in a reckless kiss.

The detective noted with satisfaction, that the action had the desired effect – it was keeping Molly quiet. This was however followed by the realization that he would have to keep this up until they were alone again, because even he couldn't tell how Molly would react once their lips parted. Although he was certain that it would involve some sort of incoherent audible reaction.

Sherlock Holmes was kissing her. A few moments ago the mere act of hiding in a confined space with him had almost been too much to handle, and now he was kissing her.

It took Molly a full fifteen seconds to recover from the initial shock, but once she did she didn't waste any time, and began to return the kiss. Having kept her hands by her sides, she brought them up to his collar, letting them rest there for moment, before her fingers travelled up further, and got lost in his soft curls.

Sherlock returned the gesture, and ran his right hand through her long hair, keeping the other one on the small of her back, not once loosening the firm grip he had on her.

Up to this point keeping Molly quiet had been his only concern, but with the growing urgency of the kiss he became painfully aware of the effect it had on himself. His once so steady heartbeat was now pounding. A natural reaction to the adrenalin and lack of oxygen , he reasoned. The bigger quandary was that he was actually enjoying what had started out as a convenient, albeit unorthodox, measure to shut Molly up.

The kiss came to an abrupt end when Sherlock heard the front door fall into it's lock.

"That was..." Molly stammered, clutching his lapels for support.

"Strangely enjoyable," he noted, collecting his thoughts for a split second before he snapped back into his regular mode.

"I apologize," he cleared his throat. "I needed a quick method to prevent you from exposing us."

"It's fine, really..." First he was kissing her, and then apologizing for it. Suddenly the idea that the closet was actually a portal to some strange alternative universe, didn't seem to be that far out there anymore.

"Well, I believe it's safe to leave now. So would you..."

"Oh sorry," with that she let go of him, and made enough room for him to slip out.

"Are you coming?" She heard him after she didn't follow him right away.

Still a little wobbly on her feet, Molly stepped out of the closet.

"I hope we can do this again, you were good," Sherlock said, busy snapping pictures with his phone.

"What?" Molly wasn't sure if she had heard right.

"Being my assistant, when John's busy. Obviously," with that his phone disappeared in his coat pocket. "We have all we need. Let's get out of here."

Molly followed him wordlessly, but the smile on her lips said it all. Here was to hoping that John would be very busy in the future.

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><p>Thanks to everyone who left reviews on the previous chapter *hands over virtual cupcakes*<p>

_I hope you enjoyed this one as well, and feel free to leave suggestions if you have some Sherlolly fantasies - who knows, they might just end up in the next chapter ;) _

_Love Laura _


	4. Car

_First of all thank you all so much for the amazing reviews! _

_And second, let me apologize for the lack of updates. I spent the last 2 months working on my B.A. thesis, and since that meant writing all day word documents were the last thing I wanted to see in the little free time I had - but I finally got back into my "fun-writing grove" , and you guys can expect a lot of new Sherlolly fluff from me._

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><p>"Great..." Molly Hooper said to herself as she walked across the almost empty parking lot. There she was in the middle of the night, following the instructions of the obscure text she had received just moments ago. No 'please' or 'sorry to bother you', just an 'I need you' and an address followed by the familiar initials. Wrapping her coat a little tighter around her small frame she looked around to figure out where exactly she was supposed to go. The pouring rain not making it any easier.<p>

"This is hopele..." Molly started but was interrupted by her text alert tone.

'Black Mercedes, backseat – SH'

Molly read the message twice, she hadn't even noticed the double entendre of the first one until now. But Sherlock wouldn't want...at least not like...no. She shook her head, and quickly dismissed the thought, well most of it, as she made her way through the rainy night. Thanks to the new information it didn't take her long to find the right car, but when she got there she wasn't quite sure what to do. Just open the door? Peak inside first? Knock? But before she could make a decision the door sprang open.

"What took you so long?" She heard Sherlock complain, and immediately knew that something was off...

"Are you alright?" Molly quickly slipped into the backseat of the car to escape the rain.

"Of course I'm alright, why wouldn't I be alright?" Sherlock replied, slurring his words.

"Sherlock what is going on?" She asked, equally concerned and confused about his condition. But the consulting detective ignored her question, and tried to get back into his previous horizontal position, which ended with him resting his head in her lap – but it only lasted for a split second.

"Take that off!" He complained, and Molly, slightly confused by the whole situation, needed a moment to understand what was bothering him, but she got it eventually.

"Oh! I'm sorry, it's pretty bad out there..." she nervously struggled with her soaked parka, and threw it over the seat infront of her so that it wouldn't bother Sherlock anymore.

"Better..." He commented, finally able to rest in the desired position.

"Okay then..." Molly mumbled, still wondering what was going on.

"So whose car is this?" She asked, trying to put at least some sense into the situation.

"Mycroft..." he replied, before he moved on to other deductions, "You smell nice. Strawberries, well not real strawberries, but still nice. You should keep strawberries in the mortuary, they'd stay very fresh..." he went on but Molly didn't listen, she was too busy trying to figure out why they were in the backseat of the older Holmes brother's car.

"Sherlock are you drunk?" It suddenly dawned on her.

"Nooo," he rolled his eyes, had it really taken her this long to come to such a faulty conclusion?

"Drugged," he finally explained. "Was working a case. Solved it, obviously, but my plan had some flaws..." he shifted again, now he was on his back and able to meet her eyes. "Mycroft was supposed to take me home, but he got a call. Said it would take five minutes, probably a war to start, something that's more important than his little brother. Can you believe that?"

"He just left you in the car? By yourself, In your current state? How..."

"I'm perfectly fine!" Sherlock cut her off.

Molly sighed "You will be. So did you text me because you want me to take you home?"

"It's still raining," he replied, but it sounded more like a question than a statement.

"Pouring," Molly said.

"Then we're better off in here," he said, or rather purred, causing Molly to tense up. Alone in a car with a tired and drugged Sherlock Holmes, to say that this was a little out of her comfort zone was the understatement of the year.

"Why didn't you call John?" She asked.

"Out of town, very inconvenient. But that's why I have you, my Molly..." he explained with a smile, a smile that was different - warmer, more genuine - than the one he usually had for her whenever he wanted something.

Molly returned the smile, and without thinking about it she ran her fingers through his hair – it was meant as a comforting gesture, but it was also something she had wanted to do ever since he had first walked into the mortuary...

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry," Molly apologized, immediately drawing her hand back.

"I didn't tell you to stop, it felt nice."

"Okay..." with that she continued where Sherlock had interrupted her.

The pathologist couldn't help but smile, there he was, the great Sherlock Holmes, curled up in her lap purring like a little kitten. It was almost comical.

"Do you want to tell me more about your case?" Molly asked after a while

"Boring..." Sherlock replied, and while Molly was still trying to figure out what to say next, he found her free hand and interlaced his long fingers with hers. Their intertwined hands resting on his chest, he smiled at her.

"Thank you for staying with me all night."

"It's only been ten minutes Sherlock."

"I was referring to the future."

"Okay, but won't Mycroft be back soon?"

"Who knows. Although, you'd think he would at least send his driver back out, since this appears to take a lot longer than five minutes."

"I could go inside and find him," Molly suggested.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"What? No, of course not," Molly replied taken aback by the question.

"First you want to take me home, then you want to find my brother to do so, and your pulse is racing." Sherlock explained, giving Molly a curious look.

"To be honest, this is a bit weird. You're being so nice," Molly replied blushing.

"Hmm, I must treat you horribly if me being nice to you makes you uncomfortable..."

"No I didn't mean to..." Molly started but she forgot what she wanted to say when Sherlock suddenly sat up, and turned around so that he could face her without being upside down.

"I want to apologize," he said, and before Molly knew what was happening his lips were on hers.

The kiss didn't last much longer than a second, two at the most. But it was enough to trigger what followed. Sherlock looked at her for a moment, waiting for a sign of consent. And Molly must have given it to him, because the next thing she felt was their lips coming together in another kiss – a kiss that was the opposite of the chaste gesture between friends the first kiss had been.

Molly's head was spinning. She knew that this was wrong, that Sherlock was in no state to know what he was doing, yet she couldn't bring herself to stop it.

The kisses were as clumsy as they were heated. Sherlock was barely able to sit up straight, and Molly was still too shocked to do anything properly ...but somehow it still worked. Their hands were roaming, exploring, tugging at clothes and hair. At some point Sherlock's suit jacket landed on the floor, and Molly's cardigan quickly followed Heavy breathing was competing with the sound of rain and distant thunder. They were so lost in the moment that they didn't even notice that they weren't alone anymore – at least not until the passenger door was shut with a loud slam.

"Oh my god..." Molly blushed violently and tried to fix her clothes, while Sherlock just sank back in his seat.

"Who knew that it would only take some anesthetics and a little boredom," Mycroft said, not even turning around to look at his brother or Molly.

"Brother dear," Sherlock said, a mocking tone in his voice. "It's about time," he straightened his shirt, and tried to put his suit jacket back on – but gave up after a couple of failed attempts.

"Don't complain, you found a way to occupy yourself after all," with that he finally turned around. "I hope he didn't bother you, in any way that could have made you uncomfortable."

"No, no of course not. It was…I shouldn't have, but Sherlock wanted to..." Molly finally spoke – or attempted to.

"Don't worry Dr. Hooper" Mycroft said, handing Molly her parka. "He won't remember any of this in the morning."

"Right," Molly replied, looking down. The whole situation was embarrassing enough, there was no need to let Mycroft, or his driver, see her disappointment on top of it.

"So, where to Miss Hooper?" Mycroft asked waiting for Molly to give the driver her address.

"I don't..." She wasn't sure what to say, Sherlock had asked her to stay with him, but he had also suggested to store strawberries next to dead bodies...

"Baker street," Sherlock cut in, putting his hand over Molly's and giving her a reassuring squeeze.

He would remember.

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><p><em>So I figured a drugged Sherlock, and heated kisses would make up for the long wait ;) I hope you enjoyed this, and maybe I could write a sequel to this one? To find out if he really remembers? <em>

_And again, if you have wishes and requests, leave them in the reviews :) I always appreciate some inspiration. _

_Love Laura_


	5. Good Morning

Here's the highly requested sequel to the last chapter :) And thank you guys so much for all the reviews! I was a little overwhelmed with all the love for these little moments, and I'm glad you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy writing them. Thank you!

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><p>Sherlock pulled his blanket over his head as the bright sunlight fell into the room. The storm from the night before was forgotten, the damage it had caused was, however, still painfully evident.<p>

He groaned in pain as he turned away from the source of the light, his head throbbing as a result of his dedication to his work ...And then it hit him, the familiar scent, the clothes from the night before, the blanket that was actually a coat, but not his coat... Molly...

…Molly! Sherlock sat up within seconds, the headache forgotten he scanned the room for evidence.

He was alone. Good. Clothing: Disheveled, but not from sleep this was the result of something else entirely. His bed. How did he get there, and more importantly why was he using Molly's parka as a blanket...Molly...

…

"_Are you sure you don't need any help? My brother can be a handful," Mycroft asked after dropping Sherlock and Molly off at Baker Street._

"_I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself as long as Dr. Hooper stays with me," Sherlock replied struggling with his coat, until he gave up and handed Molly the garment. _

"_Well then... Good luck," Mycroft nodded at Molly before he got back into his car and disappeared without further ado._

"_G'night!" a smile spread across Sherlock's lips as he watched Mycroft's car vanish in the darkness. _

"_So..." Molly wasn't sure what to do... The older Holmes had given her several opportunities to change her mind, but Sherlock had asked her to stay with him, and she couldn't leave him alone, not now, not like... her thoughts were once again cut off by his lips...or well, his clumsy attempt of a a kiss._

"_Sherlock..." Molly found herself trapped between the door and the detective._

"_Where are your keys?" She asked._

"_You," he replied._

"_What?" Molly gave him a confused look, and he started tugging at the coat that was draped over her arm._

"_Oh right..." She started searching for the keys, once she had found them, it was surprisingly easy to get Sherlock into the house... but of course the detective had to complicate things by tripping over the last step and taking her down with him as he collapsed laughing on the doormat._

"_Sherlock? Is that you? What is going on?" They heard Mrs Hudson shout from downstairs._

"_Nothing Mrs Hudson, nothing at all," Sherlock replied trying to suppress his laughter._

"_Are you sure?"_

"_Absolutely certain," he said, while Molly was helping him up, careful not to make any noise. She had suffered enough humiliation for one night. _

"_Good night Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock shouted._

"_Good night, and don't you make any more noise tonight! I need my sleep, and so do you young man." _

"_I will go straight to bed, promise," Sherlock replied, waiting for the sound of the door falling into it's lock, while Molly just hoped that her raging heartbeat wouldn't give them away..._

_…_

As Sherlock stepped out of his bedroom, the brighter light that awaited him on the other side of the door quickly reminded him of his headache, as did the noises that came from the kitchen...

"You're up..." Molly immediately stopped what she was doing and waited for the moment that she had dreaded all night...

"You're still here," Sherlock noted.

"I made breakfast, I mean coffee, I figured you would need som..." Molly reached for an empty cup but was so nervous that she dropped it.

Sherlock flinched as the cup shattered on the kitchen floor.

"I'm so sorry," Molly apologized, starting to pick up the pieces.

"Leave it," Sherlock ordered, gesturing her to follow him.

Sherlock sat down on the couch, and Molly wasn't sure if she should join him or rather take a seat in the chair on the other side of the room, but after an impatient look from him she decided on the former. He had asked her to stay after all, if anyone had a reason to feel uncomfortable it was him...

"Molly, I..." Sherlock started, but the pathologist decided to take matters into her own hands...

"I know, You weren't yourself last night, and it didn't mean anything. It's all perfectly alright, I'm fine. We can just forget about all of this and pretend that it never happened. Just go back to what we were before, you're the great detective and I'm your pathologist," Molly tried her best to keep it together, but by the end of her rant her she couldn't hold the tears back anymore.

…

"_Sherlock, you can't sleep on the floor..." As soon as Sherlock and Molly had entered the flat, the detective had decided that walking all the way to his bedroom required too much effort..._

"_Floor, bed, it doesn't make a difference," He pulled on Molly's sleeve, trying to get her to join him. _

"_Sherlock..." Molly wasn't sure what do you, she couldn't let him sleep on the floor, but dragging him to the bedroom was out of the question, too..._

"_Come here..." with that he grabbed Molly's arm and pulled her down to him._

"_Hey," she protested as he quickly put his arms around her, stopping her from getting up again, and securing her position on top of him... _

"See, bed's redundant," Sherlock said with a smile, before he lifted his head up to continue where they had been interrupted earlier...

…

"Molly, careful with the wrong deductions," He said, hesitantly taking her hand, and patting it to stop the tears.

"What?" Molly had expected him to agree and send her off, but this was a surprise.

"You could not be further away from what I was going to say."

"I am?" Molly gave him a confused look, but then she gathered the courage to ask what it was that he really wanted to tell her – already preparing herself for the worst. But what came was the last thing she had expected.

"Thank you."

"Thank you?"

"Please stop repeating me," Sherlock said rolling this eyes, this was turning out to be more complicated than he had hoped.

…

"_Nooo, don't go..." Sherlock whined. Somehow Molly had managed to get him off the floor and into his bedroom, but getting him to stay there was the real challenge._

"_Sherlock, you need to sleep. I'll be just outside the door," Molly wanted to stay with him, she really did. But she also knew that the moment she'd crawl into that bed with him, there would be no going back. And no matter how often he claimed to be absolutely fine, she knew that he wasn't._

"_You'll feel better tomorrow," with that she leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead, but when she tried to get up he was holding on to her jacket, this time, however, Molly was quicker and just slipped out of it before he could pull her in again. _

"_Good night," she watched him curl up with her old parka, and waited until he was really asleep until she left the room, and made her own bed on the couch..._

_…_

"I realize that I put you into an uncomfortable situation, and from what I actually remember you handled it surprisingly well," Sherlock explained dryly.

"You're welcome, I guess..."

"Also do not sell yourself short, there is no reason why I would want to delete this. It was enjoyable, you're good at this Dr. Hooper." With that he got up and left a perplexed Molly behind on the couch. Sherlock Holmes had just told her that she was a great kisser, Molly had to keep herself from squealing, but since the man in question was only several meters away from her, a giant smile would have to do...

"Milk, no sugar, correct?" He suddenly asked.

"Huh?" She finally got up and followed him into the kitchen

"Coffee," he handed her a cup, of course he had gotten it right.

"Thank you," she replied, the smile never leaving her lips as she watched him prepare a cup for himself.

Molly Hooper, milk no sugar, and a great kisser – at least according to Sherlock Homes, and when had he ever been wrong?

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><p>Woo! That's it! I hope you're not disappointed that I made her sleep on the couch, but it just seemed right. Leave some reviews?<p>

Lots of Love, Laura


	6. Thunder

_Once again, THANKS SO MUCH for all the lovely reviews – it's great to know that there are so many other Sherlolly fluff lovers! _

_And to the very nice person who posted as "Guest", asking if you could write about John's reaction to these adventures of Sherlock and Molly – YES! I'm honored that my stories inspired you to write your own! So go ahead, I'm super excited to read them! _

_Anyway, on to the newest little adventure (and a personal fantasy of mine haha)_

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><p>Sherlock had enough. Enough of this stupid road, enough of the rain, and most definitely enough of the small pathologist who kept trying to salvage the situation.<p>

"Isn't it great that this place wasn't locked?" Molly said, shaking of the rain like a dog that had just returned home from a day in the park.

"Fantastic," Sherlock mumbled as he looked around. Sparse furniture, no personal objects aside from a few dusty books on the mantelpiece of the fireplace, deserted, or at least not inhabited frequently. Maybe used for hunting trips. He lifted the top of the trunk by the door, camo nets. Definitely used for hunting trips.

"It's nice here," Molly commented, but Sherlock still wasn't impressed.

"I'm so sorry," she finally said, her eyes starting to fill with tears.

"Here we go," the detective groaned, he had really hoped to avoid this, but it was Molly...

"It's not your fault," he broke in, trying to stop the worst.

"If it wasn't for me..."

"You are not to blame for the storm, or the horrible state of these roads, so shut up and see if you can find anything useful in here."

Sherlock's mood had hit at a new low, the case that had led them to the countryside, a favor for a friend of Molly's, had been solved within five minutes (a defiant basset hound had been the culprit). Then the thank yous and good byes had taken excruciatingly long, and to top it off they had gotten caught in a storm (and barely avoided getting crushed by a tree). The road cut off, and the car stuck in the mud, they had wandered through the rain until they had found the cabin...

And now there they were, soaked to the skin and not even half a bar on the screens of their phones, but at least they had found shelter from the rain.

Without another word Sherlock threw his dripping suit jacket over a chair. The coat he would have needed so badly, was – thanks to John's advice – at Baker street.

"It's such a nice day..." he murmured, repeating the words of his friend, before he started to built a fire.

xoxox

"So do you think we'll be stuck here all night?" Molly asked, she had been so lucky to find a couple of towels and blankets in one of the closets, and was currently trying to dry her hair.

"You know, this could be nice, my dad used to take me on these little hunting trips, though I could never actually shoot the..." She continued when Sherlock didn't answer, hut her voice trailed off when she turned around and saw what he was doing.

"What are you doing?" Her eyes grew wide as the consulting detective peeled off his white dress shirt, revealing a perfectly toned chest...

"Isn't that obvious? My clothes are soaked through, and I do not want to catch pneumonia," he suddenly stopped and gave her a curious look, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, sorry..." Molly replied blushing, realizing that Sherlock was absolutely right. Her clothes were dripping wet, uncomfortably clinging to her body, and they would dry much faster if she wasn't in them. She kicked off her flats, before she hesitantly slipped out of her cardigan, leaving her in a pale pink top and her jeans, those were, however, the most uncomfortable item...

Her eyes shifted to the blankets that she had left on the run down couch. That would do. With that she also discarded her jeans, before she grabbed the blankets and offered one to the detective who was sitting by the fireplace in nothing but his navy boxers...

"Here," she handed him one of the blankets, thinking that she could always blame her flushed cheeks on the heat that radiated from the fire.

"Thank you," he said and there was that curious look again. "Are you sure that you are alright?"

"Yes," she wrapped herself in her blanket and sat down in an armchair on the other side of the room.

"Aren't you cold?" Sherlock asked, wondering why Molly didn't choose to sit by his side.

"No I'm fine over here, I have my blanket," Molly replied, tightly wrapped in said blanket, while Sherlock had chosen to spread his out infront of the fireplace, to sit on it.

"Good then," even though he did find her behavior rather strange, Sherlock didn't see any point in questioning it further.

Half an hour later Sherlock was reading in one of the books he had found in the cabin while Molly had fallen asleep, curled up in the chair. At least until the thunder started again...

"Do you think it'll be over soon?" she asked pulling her blanket up higher, after another roll of thunder had woken her up.

"Why does it matter? We will have to spend the night here anyway," Sherlock replied, not once looking up from his book.

"I just really don't like thunderstorms," Molly confessed.

"It's just weather, and it didn't seem to bother you earlier," Sherlock noted.

"It wasn't..." Molly started but was interrupted by the crashing thunder, it must have been right over the cabin. "It wasn't so loud earlier," she said shivering.

"Come," Sherlock said patting the floor next to him.

"What?" Molly wasn't sure if she had heard right.

"Sit with me," he said and Molly finally understood. She got up with a shy smile and joined him in front of the fireplace.

"You're still cold," he noticed, before he shifted closer to her and took the blanket that was draped over her to wrap it around the both of them. Feeling the warmth of his body against hers, she immediately felt better. They were facing the fireplace, his arm wrapped around her shoulders to keep her in place – not that he needed to.

"Why?" He suddenly asked.

"Huh?"

"Why is a relatively smart and educated person like yourself, afraid of something as mundane as thunder?"

"I just always was," Molly replied.

"It's only noise, a natural reaction to the heat from the lightning, Nothing to be afraid of," Sherlock explained, his tone making the scientific fact sound like words of seduction.

"I know that, but I still don't like it," Molly replied.

"Well, what can we do about that?"

"When I'm at home during a storm I usually just crawl into bed with a book, and headphones on," she explained, and Sherlock gave her the same curious look from earlier - but now there was also something else, concern.

"I don't have music but..." Sherlock picked up the book he had been reading earlier.

"You really don't have to..." Molly started but Sherlock cut her off.

"I am bored and you're scared, let's help each other out," with that he pulled her a little closer and started reading. Molly didn't pay attention to the words, all she registered was his voice, and the gentle patterns the fingers of his free hand were tracing on her skin, where they were wrapped around her arm. The storm and the thunder were forgotten. At some point she unconsciously let her head fall on to Sherlock's shoulder, and nestled deeper into his embrace before she drifted off to sleep...

xoxox

"Sherlock, are you in here? Molly?" John peaked his head through the door. After Sherlock and Molly hadn't returned from their little trip, John had been rather worried, and finding Molly's car abandoned on the road had confirmed his fear.

But what he saw when he stepped through the door of the run down cabin, was probably the last thing he had ever expected. Sherlock and Molly were both fast asleep, curled up on the floor in front of the fireplace. Molly's head was resting against the detective's chest, and he had his arms tightly wrapped around her as if he was protecting her from something.

John contemplated to wake them, but then he decided against it. Whatever it was that they were having, it looked like something good, and he wasn't going to disturb that. Besides, it wasn't like Sherlock would be any help in in towing the car anyway, and now that he knew they were okay he could always pick them up later. A smile on his face, he snuck out again, carefully closing the door behind him.

* * *

><p><em>That's it for now :) Leave a review get a virtual cookie? I make killer macaroons haha<em>

_Love Laura _


	7. Bath

_Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews on the previous chapters - every single one is very appreciated, and I wish there was a way to send you a cookie for each review, but until someone develops the right technology for that new Sherlolly fluff will have to to ...and has less calories than cookies so that's actually a good thing._

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><p>"Sherlock?" Molly hesitantly opened the heavy door, that led to what was supposedly Sherlock's bedroom.<p>

She had just finished her shift at the hospital when she had received Sherlock's mysterious text. 'I need your help. Urgent.' followed by an address and directions. Those directions had led her to an old country estate, an hour out of London. Not knowing who, or what, was expecting her she had decided to leave her car at the gate rather than driving up to the front door. Walking up the driveway, she noted that the garden appeared to be well kept and abandoned at the same time. Grass and hedges were trimmed neatly, as were the bushes that framed the bottom of he stairs leading up to big front door. But even though it was the middle of summer there where no flowers, toys or anything that indicated that beautiful garden and house were actually lived in.

Once at the door, an elderly man dressed in green overalls let her in, telling her that Sherlock (Sherlock, not Mr. Holmes, there had to be a somewhat close relationship, she reasoned giving her hope that she wasn't walking into a super villain's den) was expecting her in his bedroom.

"Your..." she started, realizing that she had no idea who the older man had been, "...he said I'd find you here..." she looked around, the bedroom was exactly like the rest of the house: Big, beautiful and apparently frozen in time. What is this, a museum? She thought to herself, as the consulting detective finally appeared, stepping out of the adjoined bathroom.

"Ah, Molly perfect timing. I'm just drawing the bath," he said with a smile, sitting down on the bed to take off his shoes and socks. "Wouldn't want to ruin these," he added, and before Molly knew what was going on he was already back in the bathroom.

"Are you coming?" She heard him call for her.

"Bath? Sherlock, I came all the way out here the least you can do is tell me where we are, and what..." Molly lost her words as she stepped into the bathroom.

"Wow... " The house, and the bedroom had been impressive, but this was something else entirely. The powder-blue walls, the antique furniture, the candle light that filled the room with a warmth that the rest of the house was lacking, and of course the claw-footed cast iron tub that stood in the middle of the room...as was the detective. The sleeves of his navy dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, he was pouring pink bubble bath into said tub.

"Sherlock!" Molly finally snapped out of her amazed state, no matter how beautiful this room was, or how good the detective looked in this light, If he would not tell her what was going on right now, she'd turn around on her heels within 10, 9,...

"Oh right, we're at my family's summer home, well it's not really occupied these days, except for Alfred, he already took care of this place when I was just a boy. You've met him, he let you in."

"Okay," Molly nodded, there was the 'where', now all she needed was a 'what'...but then it suddenly dawned on her.

"Wait..." she mumbled, "Is this about the case from last night?" The case Molly was referring to involved a 43 year old male who had slipped in his bathtub – or so the victim's wife had said.

"Ah, you're quicker than usual, very good Molly," the detective said, smiling at her.

"But he slipped and hit his head, there's not much of a case, is there?"

"Wrong. Tell me, what do you see?"

"Not until you tell me why we are here."

"Isn't that obvious? We are recreating the crime scene, and the bathroom at Baker Street is much too small. So what do you see Molly?" Sherlock put the bottle with the bubble bath down, and joined the pathologist.

"Well, the bathtub, the candles, it's romantic..." She added blushing a little, "and the bubble bath, roses...no lavender...not something a man old use..."

"Very good, go on..."

"Unless..." the compliment having raised her confidence Molly stepped further into the room. "Unless he had planed to surprise his wife and set this up for her."

"So it appears, but why would he do such a thing? I'm sure you remember that they were in the middle of a nasty divorce."

"Maybe he tried to make up with her?" Molly replied, trying to figure out what Sherlock wanted to hear.

"Maybe, but why would she have lied about this being an accident then? And don't look so surprised, you know better than I that his head injury was most certainly not obtained by slipping in the tub." Of course Sherlock was right. Molly had examined the body, and the slipping theory, had been rather slippery for the lack of better words, but since there was no actual evidence of foul play there was nothing they could do.

"But the police said..."

"Lestrade said that they won't further investigate the case unless I find the murder weapon. So will you do the honors?"

"The honors of what?"

"Of murdering me," Sherlock explained with a twinkle in his eyes.

xoxo

"I guess that means we can rule out the candle stick..." Sherlock said to himself, trial number two had actually ended with him in the bathtub, fully clothed – a picture that Molly found quite amusing.

"Towel," he ordered, stretching his arm out to receive said towel, but not yet attempting to get up.

"Of course," Molly replied with a chuckle, but as she handed him the towel she slipped on the by now very wet floor, and with a big splash she also landed in the tub, on top of the detective. Her chest against his, only separated by thin layers of wet clothing...

"Oh god, are you okay? I'm so sorry, I..." The mortified pathologist immediately apologized, trying to get out again, but all attempts to move only lead to even more awkward positions.

"Well this is certainly a new approach," Sherlock said after a quick recovery from the initial shock.

"Sorry," Molly apologized again, but Sherlock's comment and the general ridiculousness of the situation, made her sound more amused than embarrassed.

"Maybe it really was an accident, at least if his wife was a clumsy as you are," he added laughing, and it was genuine happy laughter, not the smug kind that she sometimes heard in the lab when he had cracked a case.

"You fell first!" She replied, now laughing herself as Sherlock shifted and pushed her back a little, so they could both sit up.

"On purpose, and without squishing you..." he explained still laughing.

"I didn't squish you, besides this experiment was ridiculous to begin with," Molly said splashing the water at Sherlock for emphasis, an action she immediately regretted as Sherlock didn't look very amused.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, getting up, but as soon as she was standing the detective pulled her down again.

"Never start a war that you don't intend to fight," He said with a smirk and within seconds they were engaged in a full blown water fight, wrestling in the tub until there was almost no water left inside. The fight found a rash end, however, when the back of Sherlock's head collided with the tub's brass tap.

"Sherlock!" Molly immediately brought her hand to his head to check for blood, letting out a relieved sigh when she didn't find any – what worried her however was that Sherlock's only reaction to the accident was a blank stare...

"Sherlock? Please say something..." Molly waited for a reply but what came next made everything that had happened so far – the invitation, the experiment, the water fight - appear perfectly normal in comparison. Without saying a word, Sherlock put his hands on both sides of her face and pressed his lips on hers in a quick but passionate kiss.

"You. Molly Hooper. Are brilliant," he said with glistening eyes.

"I am?" Molly asked, wondering how hard he had actually hit his head...

"Brilliant!" With that he leaped out of the bathtub and started pacing in circles around it.

"Don't you see?" He asked, not even bothering to wait for her reply before he continued.

"You were right, he did set this up for the lovely wife. Candles and bubble bath to distract from the devious plan, it's quite good actually, simple but good. Almost perfect, almost..." He drifted off, a smile on his lips.

"But he was the victim," Molly cut in, still trying to process what had just happened.

"Yes, because the dear wife wasn't a complete idiot, I mean, candles and bubble bath to make up for year's worth of fighting and cheating. Please...No one would be that gullible."

"But you just said..."

"I said the plan was good, not that it was his, do pay attention. She comes home, sees all this, listens to his ridiculous speech about giving it another try, and pretends to believe him, turning the tables, making him the victim of his own plot – but he's strong, there's a struggle, a struggle that ends when his head collides with that bloody tap. She didn't even have to knock him out herself. We didn't find a murder weapon because there wasn't one, the faucet was probably - no definitely - still running when it happened, washing away any traces of blood. The likelihood of hitting one's head on the underside the tap is practically nonexistent, unless one is trying to hold down an opponent..."

"And the police believe his wife when she says that it was an accident, because his fingerprints were on everything, the candles the bubblebath,..."

"Exactly, because why would he set up everything for his own murder..." Sherlock added with a smile, the adrenalin from the deduction finally wearing off.

"I need to phone Lestrade," fetching a towel on his way out, the detective left a confused Molly behind...only to come back five seconds later to help her up.

"Thanks," She said still a little weak on her legs.

"Dry off before you leave the room," with that he handed her one of the big white towels, and disappeared again, not bothered by the water trail he was leaving behind himself.

…_to be continued_

* * *

><p><em>You didn't think I'd leave you here, did you? This was getting a little too long for a one-shot, so you'll get a little more of this soon, as there are some things left to discuss now that the case is solved. ...And about that case, I know that Sherlock wouldn't need to recreate it, he would have solved that with one look, but let's just ignore that for the sake of this amusing idea haha.<em>

_Love Laura_

_...Reviews make my day ;)_


	8. Bath Part 2

_So here we go, picks up right where the last one ended..._

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><p>With Sherlock busy talking to Lestrade, Molly had taken the opportunity to explore the bedroom.<p>

So this was were Sherlock grew up, she thought to herself, as she let her eyes wander through the room. It was gorgeous, but as she had already noted earlier, it reminded more of a museum than a child's bedroom. A few books that were stacked on the floor next to the dresser and a plush dog, that looked more like a torn apart pillow with eyes – or more accurately one eye – were the only personal items. She picked the dog up, and couldn't help but wonder what it had been through to get to it's current state, knowing Sherlock it probably hadn't suffered from too much cuddling.

After putting the toy back on the bed she stepped out on the small balcony that overlooked the majestic garden, where the cold wind quickly reminded her of the state of her clothing. Shivering a little she wrapped the big towel that was draped over her shoulders tighter around her.

"Enjoying the view?" At the sound of Sherlock's voice she turned around, facing the Detective who had just walked in in a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms and nothing else...

"Yes..." She answered truthfully. "I mean, this is all really beautiful," she stammered, telling herself to relax – she had just taken a bath with the man after all, well more or less...

"Here, put those on, your clothes will be dry in the morning," he said handing her one of his dress shirts and a pair of boxers.

"Thank you," Molly replied, but then she realized what he had just said. "You want me to spend the night?"

"It's getting late, you're likely not to find your way back in the dark, and I doubt you have other obligations," Sherlock waited a moment for her to object, but of course she didn't.

"Alfred will set up one of the rooms for you, and he reminded me that it would be a good idea to consume some of the food he is preparing. He's worse than Mrs Hudson really..." Sherlock went on, mumbling the last part.

"Are you sure it's not too much trouble, I don't want to..."

"He insisted," Sherlock cut her off. "I'm gonna give you some privacy to dry up, just find me downstairs when you are ready."

xoxo

When Molly entered the kitchen a few minutes later she found the big room abandoned, the consulting detective nowhere in sight.

"Sherlock?" She called for him, wondering if she was in the right room, judging by the size of the house she wouldn't be surprised if there was indeed more than one kitchen...

"Great, he kisses me, asks me to spend the night, and then he disappears,..." she mumbled, looking a little lost – but just as she decided to go look for her host, Alfred came in, carrying a bottle of wine.

"Ah Miss Hooper, I sent Sherlock back upstairs to get dressed, running around half naked in an old house like this, it's a miracle that boy is still alive."

"I guess that'd be my fault for stealing his shirt," Molly replied, instantly liking the older man.

"There's a well filled wardrobe upstairs, but we can't blame him for wanting to impress you, do we?" Alfred winked at her, causing her to blush.

"Oh no, it's not like. We're, I'm just..I'm, I'm his pathologist. A pathologist I mean. I help him out sometimes."

"I'll get the guest bedroom ready then," The older man said with a warm smile that made her relax again.

"Thank you."

"I have to say though, I've known Sherlock his entire life, and not once did he invite a girl. I think that makes you more than just a pathologist."

"He needed my help with an experiment," Molly reasoned.

"When does our Sherlock ever need help? Now go, see if you can find him, and ask him to show you the lake. It's beautiful."

xoxo

Much to Molly's surprise it didn't take take much convincing to get Sherlock to show her around – the Detective almost seemed to be pleased to do so, for his standards at least...

"How do you not spend every free minute here?" Molly asked, as they made their way through the garden.

"I'd miss the morgue," Sherlock replied.

"I can always come here," Molly said before realizing that he probably had not meant her "I mean for experiments, we can do things here. Like today, I mean not like, but..."

"Molly," Sherlock cut her off as they came to a stop at the lake. "I am sorry for making you uncomfortable, but there is no need to ramble."

"What?" Molly gave him a confused look, did Sherlock Holmes just apologize to her?

"It was inappropriate to kiss you without your consent," he continued. "I was under the impression that you enjoyed it, but now you seem to be rather irritated."

"Who wouldn't be?" Molly blurted out, the sudden force in her voice surprising herself more than Sherlock. But now that it was out she might as well go on. "You can't just go around kissing people in bathtubs, with candles and romantic...everything...and then you go on pretending that it did not mean anything, even though it did. To one of us at least!"

"I didn't...it was a crime scene..."

"In your bedroom!"

"Bathroom," he corrected her.

"Whatever, you didn't even need me here! As if the great Sherlock Holmes with his brilliant mind and perfectly toned chest couldn't have solved a case like this alone," with that she stepped out onto the small jetty, and turned her back to him, hoping that he wouldn't notice the tears.

"Molly..." he took a step forward and reached for her hand, wanting to pull her off the weak construction – but instead of accepting the help Molly tried to push him away and with one clumsy step to the left the pathologist lost her balance and landed in the cold water.

"And that would be the second time that your clumsiness has gotten you into trouble tonight," Sherlock joked, after he was sure that Molly was okay, while Molly herself was wishing that she could just disappear in the water.

"Come on," he offered her a hand but Molly was determined to get out without his help.

"I'm fine thank you."

"Molly, don't be ridiculous, take my hand," he ordered, but as soon as Sherlock stepped further out onto the jetty the rotten wood under him gave in and he landed in the water right beside her.

"I told you I didn't want your help," Molly snapped at him, before she tried to make her way to the shore while Sherlock needed a moment to recover from the shock. But this didn't take long, and with two long strokes he was suddenly back infront of her.

"But I enjoy yours."

"What?" The four words she had just heard were probably the last ones she had expected to hear from him, and if it hadn't been for Sherlock slipping his arm around her waist she probably would have drowned right there.

"You," he cleared his throat. "...were correct, I did not need you here, I wanted you here. You Molly Hooper are not as useless as you think you are."

"Because I'm easy to humiliate..."

"Oh for god's sake," Growing more and more frustrated with the situation Sherlock decided that showing was easier than explaining, and with one swift move he pulled her closer to him and pressed his lips on hers.

Molly froze in his arms, was this really happening? Again?

The kiss in the bathtub had been spontaneous, playful, a spur of the moment thing, but this was something else entirely. Molly could feel his frustration fade away, as soon as she responded, but they had to stop for air eventually...

"I said you can't do that," she whispered looking into his blue eyes.

"You said, I can't do this in bathtubs, this is a lake," he reasoned, a smile curving his lips, ready for round two. He was about to lean in when he saw a light flickering from afar and heard Alfred calling his name.

"This will have to wait then," with that he guided the flustered pathologist to the shore and helped her to to get out of the water.

xoxo

Alfred awaited them with an amused smile for Molly, a scolding look for Sherlock, and warm bathrobes for the both of them. Neither Sherlock nor Molly were, however, very interested in the nice dinner he had prepared. If things hadn't been awkward before they certainly were now, as Molly desperately tried to figure out what Sherlock would do next, while the man himself did not seem to be at all affected by his recent confession. At least not until they were alone again...

Knowing that they would appreciate the warmth after the little accident Alfred had set up the dinner by the couch infront of the fireplace. Unsure if Sherlock wanted her on the couch with him, she choose one of the armchairs, but as soon as Alfred had left the room, Sherlock got up and knelt down infront of her.

"I would love to continue where we left off, but judging from your previous reaction I concluded that we should talk first."

"You were serious, weren't you?" Molly asked, her eyes growing wide at the idea that Sherlock could actually be interested in her.

"I thought kissing you – twice - established that." He looked up at her, his voice even lower than usual.

"So you actually did ask me out here because you..."

"Molly, I invited you to assist me in an experiment. I did not ask you because I needed an assistant and John was not available. I asked you because I knew that you would enjoy it, and so did I. And isn't this," He gestured at the dinner infront of them, "a nice way to end this day that we both enjoyed?"

"So is this...I mean, is this is this your idea of a date?"

"I guess some people would call it that. So yes, a date it is then," he explained with a smile, and all Molly wanted to do, was throw her arms around the man in front of her, but one thing was stopping her.

"You know, most first dates don't include taking baths or kissing...at least not like that."

"Molly, if we start calling our experiments dates, then we had hundreds of dates. Wouldn't you agree?" He asked, and this time there was nothing holding her back. Before Sherlock knew what was going on she had her arms around him, and her lips on his. Surprised by the attack Sherlock lost his balance and they both ended up on the floor. The kisses, only interrupted by occasional laughter, grew more urgent and passionate with each touch.

"Just a pathologist..." Sherlock and Molly immediately broke apart as they heard the older man's voice.

"Alfred,..." Sherlock started, his voice calm and collected as always - creating a ridiculous contrast to his flushed look, and the fact that an equally flushed Molly Hooper was indeed straddling him.

"...Is there something you need?"

"I came to see if dinner was to your satisfaction, but I see you were otherwise occupied," Alfred explained, amused by the scene infront of him.

"Oh god, we're so sorry..." Molly apologized, her face feeling hotter than the flames behind her.

"Oh, no need to apologize, you're only young once. Enjoy it. I'll be in my chambers should you need anything else. Unless you still want me to fix up that guest bedroom."

Sherlock and Molly both shared a look of agreement, and before either one of them could reply anything Alfred was already halfway out of the door.

"That's what I thought," He said with a smile before he disappeared in the hallway, while the action behind him continued.

* * *

><p><em>So best date ever, right? I've never been more jealous of Molly... And I know I need to apologize for taking so long with this, but I had lots of things (good and bad) going on, and writing was the last thing on my mind – but now I'm a 100% back on the Sherlolly train. <em>

_And I know Sherlock is a little "un-sherlocky" in this but I needed the angst free fluff, and everything is okay in the name of fluff._

_And as always thanks so much for all the nice reviews – they never fail to make me smile._

_Love, Laura _


	9. Bath  Morning After

_SURPRISE! Thank you guys SO much for all those sweet reviews! And no better way to thank you than with an additional scene to the last one ;) Enjoy..._

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><p>Molly woke up from the best night's sleep she had ever had. The comfortable bed, the down pillows, the silky sheets, and of course the man that had his arm still tightly wrapped around her. She opened her eyes to find said man still asleep, the innocent and relaxed look on his face almost making him look like a child. But then reality hit her like the bright sunlight that was creeping through the heavy curtains.<p>

Careful not to wake him, she slipped out of his embrace, and got up – holding her breath until she was out of the door...

Once in the hallway she fastened the buttons on her shirt – well his shirt – that had come lose in the night, and tried to figure out what to make of all this. A task that would be easier after a cup of coffee, she reasoned. Only getting lost once, she found her way back to the kitchen within a few minutes, just to find out that she wasn't the only one who liked to get up early.

"Ah, good morning Miss Hooper, did you sleep well?" Alfred greeted her.

"Good morning," Molly replied blushing a little. "And please, call me Molly."

"I'd love to, Molly, and I take those rosy cheeks as a yes then."

"That obvious, huh?"

"I was going to bring you breakfast, but after what I witnessed last night, I decided it was better not to disturb," he explained with a knowing smile.

"Again I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me," Molly apologized again.

"I might have a theory," he said and they both laughed, but Alfred immediately noticed that Molly's laughter seemed a bit forced.

"Are you alright, dear?"

"I'm just..." She started, not sure what to say. Of course she was alright, she had just enjoyed one of the best nights of her life afterall, but she couldn't shake off the fear that things would go back to normal as soon as the man who was responsible for that night would open his eyes.

"When that boy was five," he cut in handing her a steaming cup of coffee, "he decided to be a pirate, had me transform his tree house into a pirate ship, and practically didn't leave it for three weeks. What I'm trying to say is, if Sherlock wants something, he won't just change his mind, even if it means catching pneumonia from sleeping in that bloody tree. "

"Thank you, I needed to hear this even though I am not sure if I should be worried or reassured."

"Just take this upstairs and see for yourself," he said finishing the breakfast he had prepared, by adding a small vase with a few freshly cut flowers to it.

"That looks amazing."

"Just promise me that you'll be actually eating it this time."

"I'll do my best," She replied with a smile, but just as she wanted to pick up the tray Sherlock stepped through the door. Wrapped in the warm bathrobe from the night before, and his hair even more dishevelled than usually, he stole a strawberry and some cream, before wrapping his left arm around Molly's side, and greeting her with a quick kiss.

"Well, there's your answer," Alfred commented winking at Molly.

"Good morning Alfred," Sherlock finally acknowledged the older man, before dipping another strawberry in cream, and feeding it to Molly.

"Why did you leave?" He asked.

"I just..."

"Molly wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed, but you had to wake up and ruin the surprise," Alfred quickly cut in to save Molly.

"I suppose I could go back to bed and pretend to be surprised, but that seems awfully silly. So why don't we just take this outside?" Sherlock suggested.

"That sounds lovely," Molly replied with a smile that Sherlock returned, before facing Alfred.

"Alfred,would you like to join us?"

"I'd love to," Alfred replied, picking up the tray and carrying it outside.

"Not so fast..." Sherlock grabbed Molly's hand as she wanted to follow Alfred.

"What?" She looked at him with curious eyes.

"Don't you ever..." he took a pause to press his lips on hers in a passionate kiss, that left her breathless for s few seconds. "...doubt me, Molly Hooper," he finished, having trouble catching his own breath...

Molly´s eyes lit up at the sound of the words, and after thinking about what to reply only one thing seemed to be appropriate.

"Aye, captain," With that, and a happy smile on her lips she left the room, leaving a slightly confused but nevertheless equally amused Sherlock behind.

* * *

><p><em>So that's it for real - I hope you enjoyed this little surprise, and I'll leave what actually happened between them to your imagination.<em>

_Reviews are as always appreciated ;)_

_Love Laura_


	10. Ride

_Thank you guys so much for all the love! Every review, no matter how short, brings a smile to my face (I hate how cheesy this sounds but it's the truth, so what can I do...) _

_So After the little "Alfred Arc" it´s back to the oneshot adventures, but that doesn't mean that you have seen the last of him just yet ;) And as all of these little adventures, this is just another one that I would love to cross off my "Things that I really want to do with Sherlock" list. So Enjoy!_

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><p>"John!" Molly called through the crowd as she spotted the blond doctor.<p>

"Molly finally, you do not want to miss this..." John Watson greeted her, before his eyes drifted back to the action in front of them.

"Miss what?" Molly asked, following John's line of vision, still wondering why he had phoned her, asking her to join him, at a polo match of all things. But as she watched the match, and the players a little more closely, she realized that this had definitely been worth sacrificing her free Saturday and putting on her best sundress.

"Wait, is that? No way!" She exclaimed, pointing at a familiar looking player on a gorgeous black horse.

"We were here to wrap up a case, and the client was so grateful that he offered us to watch the match, but then Sherlock reminded him that saving his reputation and family is worth more than free drinks and front seats, and somehow this happened..."

"He's amazing!" Molly said, having a hard time to take her eyes off Sherlock. Sherlock himself, dressed in the team's uniform, consisting of white trousers and maroon polo shirt, was, however, too emerged in the game to notice her arrival.

"Did you know that he was good with horses?"

"No," John laughed. "I actually tried to talk him out of it, thinking that he would get himself killed. But you know Sherlock, always full of surprises..." John explained but was interrupted by Molly's cheering when Sherlock scored another goal.

After the match John and Molly were awaiting Sherlock at the stables.

"You should have told me that you're a secret polo champion," John greeted the detective who had just won the match for their client's team.

"It did not seem important, besides I am hardly a champion, I did not play in years," Sherlock explained before he hopped off his horse, gave it a friendly pat, and let one of the stable boys take over.

"You were amazing," Molly finally spoke up, blushing a little.

"Molly, what are you doing here? I didn't take you for a polo fan," Sherlock gave her a curious look waiting for an explanation.

"I invited her, thought it would be nice to have a witness. Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective and horseman extraordinaire, who would have thought..."

"It is a basic skill, just communication and control, nothing about it is extraordinary," Sherlock reasoned.

"Of course, now you're being humble..." John replied, rolling his eyes, but his smile still giving away how impressed he actually was.

"Sherlock, you looked great out there," Molly added, "I mean you were great," she quickly corrected herself.

"And the horse too! Everything was great."

"Yes, he's a beautiful creature." Sherlock replied a smile curving his lips.

"Beautiful creature?" John gave Sherlock a bewildered look. Who was this man, and what had he done to his flatmate?

"He really is," Molly added.

"So you like horses then, Molly?" Sherlock asked ignoring John.

"I...I love horses, actually I, I was in the riding club at uni," Molly had no idea what had gotten into her. She was as fond of horses as the next girl who had grown up with Black Beauty and Barbie horses, but she was by no means an equestrian, and besides the occasional clown-led pony ride her experience was limited to carousel horses.

"You were?" John asked, suspecting that Molly was embellishing at least a little. While Sherlock seemed to be rather intrigued.

"Would you like to come on a ride with me some time? Tomorrow maybe? I'd love to repeat this, but I'm sure that I won't get John here on a horse," he suggested.

"I'd love to!" Molly replied, her mouth once again much faster than her brain. But then again how hard could it be, he didn't ask her to compete in a polo match, this was a simple sunday afternoon stroll – on horses. And he had said it himself, a basic skill...

"Sherlock, are you sure this is a good idea? You don't even have a horse, horses," John tried to prevent the worst.

"I'm sure that after today, borrowing a couple of horses won't present problem."

"Don't worry John, it will be fun," Molly cut in.

"Perfect, I'm gonna go change," Sherlock said winking at Molly, before he disappeared in the locker rooms.

After Sherlock and John had dropped Molly off at her flat, she didn't waste any time, this was her chance to spend time with Sherlock outside of the lab, a chance to impress him, so shopping was in order, and only two hours later she found herself at the register of a store that she wouldn´t even enter under normal circumstances The boots alone would set her back a small fortune, but as she had looked at herself in the mirror, admiring the dark brown boots, tan trousers, and the ruffled forest green jacket, that topped the ensemble of, she knew that it was worth it – for Sherlock.

xoxo

The next day Molly was waiting for Sherlock at the stables as they had agreed the day before. Checking her watch she grew more and more worried with every minute that passed. He wouldn't just change his mind, would he? Or maybe he had seen through her lie, and this was his way to put her into her place...

"Molly," at the sound of the familiar voice she quickly turned around.

"I apologize," He said, leading a beautiful white horse out of the building, while a stable boy was following him with the stallion he had ridden in the polo match.

"Delilah here proved to be a a little stubborn," as on cue the unruly horse bucked

"Down girl," Sherlock said his calm voice immediately relaxing the horse and Molly. Seeing how good he was with the animals took away at least some of her fear, if something would go wrong he'd be right beside her...

"She's beautiful," Molly said, taking a step towards Delilah.

"You know, there was no need to get all dressed up," Sherlock suddenly said, giving her a quick once-over. Sherlock himself was wearing dark jeans, and a well worn navy jacket that was just as well tailored as his usual suits.

"Oh, this is just something I still had in the back of my wardrobe," Molly replied blushing a little.

"Brand new boots?" He gave her a questioning look.

"Yes, my old ones were falling apart, and I thought the occasion called for a new pair," she explained hoping that she would buy it, but Sherlock had already lost interest in the conversation and was busy talking to the stable boy.

"No problem, sir," handing Sherlock the reins, the boy went back inside.

"So what's his name?" Molly asked, trying to buy time.

"Samson," he replied, mounting the animal with ease.

"Samson and Delilah, of course" Molly mumbled, whilst trying to figure out the easiest way to get on the white mare without humiliating herself.

"Do you need help?" Sherlock asked, growing a little impatient.

"No, no I got this," She said with a smile, putting her food in the stirrup. "Please, just don't kill me," she whispered, hoping that Delilah would listen.

xoxo

"So why did you lie?" Sherlock asked, completely out of the blue as they made their way over the wide field.

"What do you mean?" She replied. Granted, the first few meters had been a little rocky to say the least, but by now she actually felt quite comfortable on Delilah – at least as long as they wouldn't increase their speed...

"Molly you could not possibly believe that you fooled me. You have never ridden a horse in your life, never mind been a member of an equestrian team."

"I just...I thought this would be fun," she explained looking down.

"Molly you..."

"I'm sorry, if you want to return, I..." She interrupted him but never got a chance to finish.

"Molly, hold on!" A small fox that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere crossed their path and startled both horses, Sherlock regained control over Samson within a few seconds, but before he could do something about it the already unruly Delilah had taken off in a storm.

Sherlock watched in horror how the horse raced across the field with Molly hanging on for dear life, and even though his own horse was much faster he couldn't get to Delilah in time to stop Molly from falling off.

"Molly!" Sherlock jumped off Samson the moment he saw her hit the ground, and within seconds he was kneeling by her side

"Don't move," he ordered scanning her body for injuries.

"I'm fine, it's just my arm..." She tried to sit up a little, holding up her right arm that was rapidly swelling around her wrist.

"I'm sorry," she said as big tears started rolling down her cheeks.

"You're an idiot!" He burst out, picking up her helmet that had come off during the fall, and throwing it over the field.

"What the hell were you thinking?! How deluded...why would you do something so stupid?"

"I tried to, I couldn't...she just..."

"Stop apologizing!" He snapped at her.

"Sherlock you're scaring me!" Molly replied, now sobbing.

"Good!" He replied, kneeling down again, forcing her to look into his eyes by cupping her cheeks with his large hands. "You scared me!" He added, brushing off her tears with his thumbs.

"You were very lucky, and it didn't look like that from my point of view, do you understand?"

She nodded.

"Now show me your arm," He said, the anger fading from his voice.

"Shouldn't you go after Delilah?"

"She's not hurt, you are."

xoxo

A couple of hours later – after making sure that Molly was in good hands – Sherlock was back at the stables. By now it was getting dark outside, and most of the staff had left for the day, but he didn't feel like facing anyone except the horses. He had made the equation without John, however.

"You know, if you want to move in here you'll have to find a new roommate because I don't think I could afford it."

"John? How is Molly?" The detective asked, stepping out of Delilah's box.

"Why don´t you ask her yourself?" John explained as the young pathologist stepped out of the shadows, her right arm in a blue cast.

"Molly, are you alright? I'm so sorry," Sherlock apologized as soon as he saw her, earning confused looks from both Molly and John.

"It's just a hairline fracture, it hurts but I'll be okay" she explained as Sherlock took a closer look at the cast, making sure that it was up to his standards. "Wait why are you sorry?" Molly asked, during his inspection.

"I did not stop you, even though I saw right through your lie. I made a mistake. Forgive me." Sherlock replied, his eyes now fixed on the ground.

"Sherlock, you did not force me to get on that horse. You were right, I was an idiot," Molly spoke up.

"Why did you do it?" He asked.

"What?"

"You never told me why you lied, and no the 'I thought it would be fun' answer does not count." he explained.

"I'm gonna give you a minute," John said, giving Molly an encouraging pat before he left.

"I...I...I wanted to spend time with you, outside of the morgue I mean," she confessed.

"You risked your life, just to spend time with me? Why didn't you just join me for dinner?"

"You never asked," now Molly was the one looking at the ground.

"So I have to ask, even though it is you who wants it?"

"Yes..." Molly replied hesitantly.

"Well then," He replied rolling his eyes "Molly Hooper, do you want to have dinner?"

"I'd love to," Molly replied with a smile.

"Great, and during that dinner we can set up a schedule for riding lessons as soon as your arm is healed. Considering your potential it would be a waste to not get back on the horse."

"What? I'm not..." Molly wasn't sure if she had heard right, was he really thinking that there'd be a repetition of this?

"Oh you will."

"What makes you think that I am going to get back on that thing?"

"Because, you can't say no to an opportunity to spend time with me," he declared with a smile, and Molly couldn't help but return it, forgetting the pain and embarrassment for a moment. She, Molly Hooper, had gotten a dinner invitation from Sherlock Holmes – and not even the wildest of horses could take that away from her.

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><p><em>So, that's it for now, I admit that my horse expertise goes about as far as Molly's - I used to ride ponies when I was little and that's where the knowledge ends, so I apologize for any misused "horse-lingo". Leave a review, and take a virtual cookie – quick, before they run out! ;)<em>

_Love, Laura _


	11. Happy New Year

_Sweet little New Year's Eve piece – they aren't dating in this one._

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><p>"Got a better place to be?" Sherlock asked as he noticed how Molly was - for the seventh time since he had come in - checking the clock that was hanging on the wall behind him.<p>

"Oh no, I was just...it's New Year's Eve, and..." Molly tried to explain, it wasn't like she had other plans, if Sherlock hadn't come in she'd be on her couch right now, a glass of sparkling wine in front of her, and a bad movie keeping her from falling asleep before midnight.

"It's 47 minutes to midnight," Sherlock stated.

"I know," she replied, handing him a new petri dish.

"Thank you."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" He asked, looking up from the microscope for a second.

"Don't you have anywhere to be? A party? You're certainly dressed for it," she noted – not that she had ever seen him in anything but a suit, but he looked different tonight. The black patent shoes, the navy silk shirt, the black tie, he looked festive – and even more out of place than usually

"My brother's, but something came up."

"Soil samples?"

"Exactly, hand me the next one?" He asked scribbling something into his notebook.

"That was the last one."

"Oh..." Now he was the one checking the clock. "That's unexpected, I didn't think I'd be done so early."

"You can still make it to the party," Molly said with a smile.

"Go outside and find me something else to analyse."

"Sherlock could it be that you are here because you don´t want to go to the party?" She asked, finally realizing what he was up to.

"You could say that."

"So you are ruining my New Year's Eve, to have an excuse for skipping your brother's party?"

"I thought you said you didn't have plans," Sherlock asked raising an eyebrow, confused about her reaction.

"I don't, but that doesn't mean that I want to spend it here."

"Were would you be if I hadn't come in?"

"I..." The question had caught her off-guard, she couldn't really tell him that she'd be at home watching telly.

"I don´t know...but definitely not here."

"Ok, let's go then."

"Wait, what?"

"We are going out," he explained, helping her into her coat before putting on his own.

xoxo

"I didn't think this trough," Sherlock admitted, turning his collar up to protect himself from the cold wind.

"No, it's nice, it beats the morgue, though I would prefer a cup of tea over this," she took another sip, hoping that the alcohol would warm her up.

"Slow down, that's a 500 quid bottle of champagne, and I don't think I can steal another one."

"500?" She almost chocked on the drink.

"It's the only thing that goes with that horrible caviar," he joked taking the bottle from her. They were sitting on the front steps of the hotel where Mycroft was hosting his New Year's Eve party. And because Sherlock still had no interest in attending, and Molly wasn't dressed for the occasion, the detective had snuck in and helped himself to a bottle of champagne and some food.

"You're horrible," she said.

"How?"

"You make up some experiment, to get out of attending your brother's party, yet you still don´t mind stealing his food..."

"Technically I am attending it, I just stepped out to get some air," he reasoned.

"Why don't you want to go in, by the way?"

"Isn't that obvious?"

"You can't stand your brother?" she answered. A question, not a statement..

"It's not really, how would you say? ...my scene," he explained. "The crowd is too large, the people too annoying."

"So you rather sit here in the cold with me?" She shivered a little.

"Well the plan was to stay at the morgue, but you said I ruined your New Year's Eve. And that's the last thing I wanted," he put his arm around her to keep her warm.

"The champagne makes up for it," she replied, a shy smile curving her lips.

"I'm glad."

"It's almost midnight," she noted, wondering if he understood the hint.

"I know," he replied, his eyes fixed on the many couples that walked by, while Molly reached for his hand to take a look at his watch.

"Eight seconds..." She whispered, her anticipation growing, this was it, she was alone with Sherlock at midnight.

"Three..." She turned her head towards him.

"Two," closed her eyes...

"One..."

"Happy New Year Molly."

No kiss.

"Happy New Year," she replied, not even trying to hide the disappointment in her voice as she watched him take a sip of champagne before handing her the bottle.

"Thank you."

They sat there in silence for a few more minutes, as the city around them celebrated the new year. Just when the band inside played the last notes of Auld Lang Syne Sherlock stood up and offered Molly a hand.

"Come on, time to go home." She was reluctant to take his hand, but before she knew what was happening, they found themselves standing next to a cab.

"Thanks for spending New Year's with me," she said, as he opened the door for her.

"I have to thank you, you saved me from a boring party."

"I guess we're even then."

"Not quite," she was already halfway in the car when Sherlock pulled her out again, capturing her between the car and himself as his lips crashed down on hers in a passionate kiss.

It took her a second or five to catch on, but once she did it was like an invisible dam between them had broken. Her hands moved over his shoulders, came up to his neck, sliding back to tangle in his thick curls as they deepened the kiss, while his were resting on her waist, holding her tight.

A blaring horn horn caused them to jump and break apart.

"Do you want in or not?" The cabbie complained.

"One minute," Sherlock replied, breathing heavily.

"Why... why didn't..." Molly struggled to find her words...

"I didn't kiss you at midnight, because I didn't want you think that I did it just to follow some silly tradition," he explained, and her eyes lit up as she listened to his words.

"So you..."

"I'll see you tomorrow," he whispered into her ear, before brushing his lips over her cheek and putting her into the car.

This was going to be a great year, she thought as the cab drove off to bring her home and the consulting Detective disappeared in the rearview mirror.

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><p><em>Happy New Year! I hope this wasn't to cheesy, but even if it was I don't care haha. This year has been crazy, and I wanted to end it with something overly fluffy. <em>

_Now who wants to be my first reviewer of 2013? XOXO_


	12. Ski and Scrabble

_Thank you all so much for the nice reviews on the New Year's Eve chapter. I hope you enjoy this one just as much. xo_

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><p>"What's taking him so long?" Molly drew patters in the snow with her ski pole, eager to get out on the slopes – well the beginners slope as this was only her second time on skis.<p>

"He's probably busy showing off, but we can just go without him," John suggested. He wasn't the best skier, but good enough to show Molly the ropes.

"Oh there he is," Molly saw Sherlock appear at the snowy path from the road. With his black hair contrasting against his white jacket and the snow, his skis effortlessly propped on his shoulder, and his helmet dangling from his free hand, he looked like he belonged on the slopes and had spend all season there, even though they'd only just arrived the day before.

A case had led them to the resort in the Alps. The owner of the resort they were staying at had hired the Detective to catch a hotel thief, a task that had taken Sherlock approximately 90 minutes – and not the full week that they had been invited for. John and Molly both had expected Sherlock to insist on returning to London as soon as the case had been solved, but much to their surprise Sherlock was thrilled about the idea of spending a week in the show. Their surprise had, however, faded as soon as they had seen the Detective on the slopes, skiing as if he had never done anything else in his life.

"You missed all the fun," Sherlock, who had been out since the early dawn, greeted his friends.

"Some of us think that it's a good idea to have breakfast at the beginning of the day," John explained, but Sherlock ignored the remark.

"Do you think we can step it up a bit today?" He asked, looking at Molly.

"Of course! You're such a great teacher."

"No, take it slow, we don't want anyone to get hurt, okay?" John found her response a little too eager, making him worry that she'd take a risk just to impress Sherlock.

"Maybe we..."

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall," Sherlock cut her off, and to Molly it sounded like a promise to hold her hands all they way down the mountain.

xoxo

"Unbelievable..." John noted as he entered the hotel room. "This really isn't what I expected when you called me from the hospital."

After a few hours of skiing the trio had split up. John had made plans to meet a woman he had met the night before for lunch, while Sherlock and Molly had preferred to stay on the slopes.

"You're lucky it's not broken," he sat down on the edge of the bed, where his friend was currently recovering from his accident, resting his back against the headboard, his right ankle propped up on an extra pillow.

"Lucky," Sherlock grunted in response, he definitely did not consider a sprained ankle lucky.

"How did this happen?" John asked turning to Molly, since Sherlock wasn't being very cooperative.

"I asked him if we could try an advanced slope, and we almost made it down," she explained, with a proud smile that quickly disappeared as Sherlock's groaning reminded her of his injury.

"You slid down sideways the entire run, screaming the whole way, distracting me, otherwise I would have seen that bump," Sherlock defended himself.

"Have you both lost your mind?" John cut in, sounding like a father scolding his children. "This could have ended much worse."

"Nobody's dead," Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance about his friend's tone. "How about you make yourself useful, and help Molly with the bags."

"Oh no," John replied standing up. "We aren't going anywhere. You need rest, and you have a better chance of getting that here than back home. Besides, I am having a great time."

"So you're letting me rot in this room, while you two are out having fun?"

"You're in a suite with an amazing view and 24 hour room service, I'd hardly call that rotting."

"There's still stuff you can do," Molly tried to cheer him up. Blaming herself for the accident, she had already apologized about 30 times, and even though Sherlock had told her almost every single time to shut up, she still felt a need to make it up to him.

"Oh let's call the front desk to bring up some board games!" she suggested.

"That's a wonderful idea Molly," John agreed, as Sherlock opened his mouth to protest.

"And don't forget to eat, you shouldn't take painkillers on an empty stomach."

"I'll order room service," Molly said, as John got up.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock complained.

"I have plans, but you have Molly. You'll be fine."

"But..." Sherlock was less than thrilled about the idea of spending the evening with Molly, and her attempts to entertain him.

"Call if you need me," John cut him off, already halfway out of the door. As Molly was already on the phone with the front desk.

xoxo

"It's your turn," Molly said waiting for Sherlock to roll the dice, but the detective ignored her.

"Come on, if I always roll the dice for you, I might as well play alone," she complained.

"That's the best idea you had all day," Sherlock mumbled, leaning further back into the pillows.

"Are you tired, does your head hurt?" Molly asked, a little too concerned for Sherlock's liking.

"No, but my leg hurts, thanks to you nonetheless."

"Do you want me to..."

"No Molly I do not want you to do anything. As a matter of fact, I don't even want you here! So for god's sake shut up, or better yet, get out!"

"I was just trying to help!" Molly tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to roll down her cheeks. If he didn't want her there, then fine.

"Molly wait, I didn't…" He suddenly regretted his harsh tone, but Molly didn't hear him over the sound of the door slamming shut behind her.

"...mean it," Sherlock finished with a sigh.

xoxo

Molly had gone straight to her room, where she was now scrolling through the hotel's movie options, hoping to find something that would make her day a little less miserable. She had just settled on a romantic comedy when someone knocked on her door.

"Yes?" She opened the door, finding a young man in the hotel's uniform on the other side.

"I have a message for you Miss," he said handing Molly a small envelope.

"Thank you," she replied, closing the door again before she opened the white rectangular. Inside she found the dice from the game she had been playing with Sherlock and a handwritten note:

"_Your turn. SH" _she read it out loud, wondering if this was his way of apologizing or if he was just bored without her. But whatever his intentions were, she wouldn't rush back to him. Not yet at least. With that she sat down on her bed, and picked up the remote. Sherlock would have to wait.

But only a few minutes into the movie the excitement of the day caught up with her, and Molly fell asleep until the sound of Sherlock's voice woke her up.

"Molly!" she heard him yell through the door.

"What...?" She opened her eyes and checked her watch, immediately sitting up as she realized that she had slept through the whole movie.

"Oh no," She got up and opened the door for him.

"Sherlock, you're supposed to rest!" She said, her protective mode kicking in as she saw him standing at her door, leaning on crutches to keep his weight of his ankle.

"And you are supposed to keep me company."

"I wanted to but..," she began apologizing, before she remembered that he should be the one doing so. "You threw me out!"

"I changed my mind. Didn't you get my message?" He asked impatiently.

"I was watching a movie."

"It's over now," he stated, as the credits started rolling over the screen behind her.

"Maybe I'll watch another one," she shrugged.

"Molly..." He sighed, "I am sorry. My ankle is throbbing, and I am angry at myself..."

"Sherlock, it was an accident..."

"Let me finish."

"Ok," she nodded.

"I am angry at myself for letting you put yourself in danger. It was reckless and stupid, you just learned how to ski 24 hours ago for god's sake..."

"And yet, you're the one who fell..." She joked to cheer him up, but it wasn't really working.

"Sometimes people just do stupid things," she added.

"But I'm not people," Sherlock replied, a pleading look on his face.

"Come on, we should put some ice on your ankle," Molly said, wanting to go back to Sherlock's room, but he stopped her.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" He asked, a smirk on his lips, as Molly tried to figure out what he meant, before she remembered and rushed back into her room to pick up the dice from her nightstand.

xoxo

"I win!" Molly said, a victorious smile on her lips.

"I let you win," Sherlock replied rolling his eyes.

"No you didn't!"

"New Game!" He demanded, not willing to give her the satisfaction of beating him in a silly a board game.

"We played them all," Molly said, looking through the boxes that were stacked at the foot end of the bed.

"Fine, what do you want?" He gave in.

"What?" Molly wasn't sure what he meant.

"The winner gets a reward, isn't that how this works?"

"We were playing for fun..."

"It's only fun if there's something at stake," he explained.

"Ok, well..." She tried to think of something.

"A kiss," she suddenly said...and immediately regretted it, what was she thinking? He would never...

"I mean, I'm sorry..." blood began to fill her cheeks, and she could almost feel her temperature rising as she blushed, while the Detective was watching her with an amused smile on his lips. But then he leaned forward, and the next thing she felt was his cold hand cupping her cheek.

"You´re letting me off awfully easy," with that he closed the distance between them. The kiss was over so fast that Molly didn't even get a chance to respond, but when she opened her eyes and saw Sherlock looking back at her, there was something new, something like a nearly tangible electricity, between them.

"Molly, I..." Sherlock's hand was now resting on her shoulder. "I owe you an apology, a real apology..."

"You did apologize, you said it was reckless and stupid," Molly replied a little confused.

"That's not good enough," he explained, letting his fingers play with her hair, before they trailed back up, curling around the back of her neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps on every inch of skin they had touched.

"I am sorry," he whispered, tilting his head slightly, aligning their already close mouths to perfection.

"I don't want you to apologize," she said, the tension between them becoming unbearable.

"Why not?" His question was followed by a soft but frustrated moan in his throat.

"Because I like it when you do stupid things..." She didn't know how her hands had even gotten on his chest, but now she found herself grasping for the fabric of his T-shirt, pulling him towards her...

And that's when they heard a knock on the door...

They broke apart, before their lips had even touched, and only seconds later they were at opposite ends of the bed, chests heaving and cheeks flushed. Sherlock had even grabbed a book from the nightstand, pretending to be completely engrossed in the text as John entered the room.

"I just wanted to check up on you before..." John stopped as he noticed how both, Sherlock and Molly, looked awfully out of breath for two people who had spend the whole evening playing board games.

"Did I interrupt something?" he asked curiously.

"We were about to have sex because Molly beat me at Scrabble," Sherlock explained matter of factly, looking up from his book to wink at Molly whose face reddened even more, whereas John only looked shocked for a few seconds before he started laughing.

"I see your mood has improved, but how's the ankle?"

"Better, Molly is very thorough with the ice," Sherlock explained, as Molly quickly readjusted the ice on his ankle.

"Good well, you're in good hands then."

"I am, good night John," eager to pick up what John had interrupted, Sherlock tried to get rid of his friend as quickly as possible.

"Ok, good night," even though John was dying to know what he had missed, he could sense that it'd be best to retreat to his own room right now. He could always find out more in the morning.

"Night," Molly replied, a shy smile curving her lips.

"Just don't do anything stupid," John mumbled before closing the door behind him, leaving Sherlock and Molly to whatever it was that they had been doing. He only knew one thing for sure, and that was that there was no way that anyone could beat Sherlock at Scrabble.

* * *

><p><em>So looks like the trip isn't ruined after all – Reviews make me happy! And as some of you might know, Valentine's Day is my 1 year Sherlolly anniversary – so expect something cute on the 14th ;)<em>

_Love Laura_


	13. Flowers and Hearts

_First of all, thank you all so much for the lovely reviews! Nothing beats waking up to a bunch of nice words about my stories. But there also has been a little bit of confusion about these pieces. So once and for all they are meant as standalone one-shots, that can be read in any particular order, and are not connected UNLESS mentioned otherwise (like the "Bath" arc). _

_And finally, here's my little calorie free Valentine's Day treat for you – which also marks my one year anniversary as a Sherlolly writer. Enjoy._

* * *

><p>Ever since Molly Hooper had been a little girl she had spend the first of January decorating her calendar. Filling the whole month of December with snowmen and stars, marking her birthday with purple glitter, drawing a bunny over the words 'Easter Sunday', and of course an array of multiple hearts to frame February 14th – Valentine's Day. Her excitement for the last one had, however, faded within recent years, and the colourful designs had turned into single black ink hearts, before disappearing altogether. Now February 14th was just another day that would end with being ignored by the one man she truly cared about, a certain Sherlock Holmes – But if there are no glitter hearts there are no disappointments she reasoned as she returned to the lab after her coffee break.<p>

She put her gloves back on with a sigh, and went back to work, but a few seconds later she was interrupted by a visitor.

"Delivery for Dr. Hooper," she heard a muffled voice before the door opened, and a teenage boy in a delivery uniform stepped into the room carrying a gorgeous flower arrangement that consisted mainly of red roses and was so big that it was blocking the boy's face.

"Who are they from?" Molly asked, making room on her desk.

"A..." The boy checked his clipboard after putting the flowers down. "A Mister Sherlock Holmes."

"Why is Sherlock sending me flowers?"' Molly's eyes lit up at the thought that Sherlock had actually send her flowers, on Valentine's Day...

"I can't know for sure, but my guess is that he likes you," the boy replied shrugging, before he slipped out again. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's Day," Molly replied absentmindedly, suddenly feeling a lot like the ten year old with the pink crayon.

Thanks to her restored holiday spirit the next few hours went by fast, and even the dreaded paperwork was made bearable by the gorgeous rose bouquet on her desk. But the more she admired it the more she wondered what exactly it meant. Was it just a friendly gesture to thank her for helping him out on a case, or did it – could it – mean more?

"Ah. Molly you got my flowers," the answer to all of her questions suddenly walked in.

"They're beautiful Sherlock. Thank you so much, you have no idea how..." She began, not even realizing that Sherlock was too engrossed in his phone to listen to a word she was saying.

"Put them over there," he cut her off.

"Okay..." Not questioning the request, Molly carried the flowers from her desk to the sink.

"Thank you," with that the Detective put his phone away, and threw his coat over a chair.

"They were quite the surprise," Molly said.

"I wanted to be here earlier, but something came up," Sherlock explained, lining up various chemicals and tools next to the roses, before he started to pull the bouquet apart.

"What are you doing?!" Molly cried out in shock.

"My experiment," Sherlock replied, confused about her outburst.

"But..."

"I believe that the main suspect in my newest case got rid of his wife by poisoning her flowers, I just need need to find out how. What did you think they were for?"

"I...I thought they..." Molly tried to hold her tears back. How could she have been so stupid, and believe for one second that Sherlock Holmes would actually send her flowers.

"He said they were for me..." Molly mumbled as she stormed out almost knocking John over on his way in.

"Careful, are you alright?" The doctor asked a concerned look on his face.

"I'm fine, I'm perfectly fine..." Molly replied without stopping, the last thing she wanted was Sherlock to see her tears.

"That was odd," Sherlock commented as John joined him.

"What did you do this time?"John asked rolling his eyes.

"Just a misunderstanding about the flowers," Sherlock explained dryly.

"What kind of misunderstanding?"

"I had them delivered to her, and I think she assumed they were for her. That still doesn't explain her reaction though."

"So she spent all afternoon thinking that you sent her flowers, red roses, only to find out that they are for a experiment? Why would she be upset about that? Today of all days…"

"What does the date have to with it?"

"It's Valentine's Day."

"Oh..." Sherlock finally realized. "So she though..."

"Yes," John cut in. "And you better apologize," he knew that Sherlock hadn't hurt Molly on purpose, but it also didn't feel right to let the Detective get away with it.

"Here," Sherlock quickly scribbled something on a piece of paper, and handed it to John.

"What is this?" John inspected the note, not recognizing the address Sherlock had written down.

"I need you to pick something up for me, for Molly to make up for my mistake."

"And what am I picking up?"

"I will text the details," Sherlock replied getting back to his experiment.

"Okay," John replied before exiting the lab, hoping that Sherlock wasn't just doing this to get back onto Molly's good side.

xoxo

Molly had decided to hide out in the archives for the rest of her shift, which meant that she'd have to work overtime tomorrow to make up for the lost time – but that still beat helping Sherlock. In one afternoon the man had managed to restore her lost holiday spirit, and to completely crush it – all with one stupid bouquet. And he probably didn't even know that he had upset her, because that would require noticing her.

"…and that he'll never do," she mumbled as she put her coat on, and headed for the door, all she wanted after this day were the chocolates that were waiting in her kitchen, and a hot bubble bath to sulk in. But it looked like she wouldn't even get that...

"Sherlock..." She stopped as she found the Detective waiting infront of the building, holding a beautiful flower bouquet in his hands. It was smaller than the one he had send earlier, and instead of red roses it was an eclectic assortment of hydrangeas, purple tulips , baby pink roses and a few daisies that almost looked a little out of place in the company of their more sophisticated friends.

"Are they for me, or was someone strangled with them?" she asked, when he remained silent.

"Don't be ridiculous Molly, one cannot be strangled with flowers of this size," he replied, but Molly just tilted her head to the side, and waited for an explanation.

"I sent the flowers to you because I knew that you would be here to accept them, it didn't occur to me that you would think..."

"That I would think you were actually capable of doing something nice? Silly me..." she interrupted him, trying to walk away, but Sherlock kept following her.

"I didn't know!"

"You didn't know what?"

"That it is Valentine's Day," with that he grabbed her arm and spun her around, forcing her to stop.

"Sherlock please, it's fine just let me go home," she begged but Sherlock didn't let go.

"It's not fine, what I did was very thoughtless, and I want you to have these," he held up the bouquet, but Molly didn't move.

"Did John tell you to do this?" She asked.

"He may have helped me to recognize my mistake, but the flowers were my idea. So will you please take them? I know you like them, daisies are your favourite."

"How did you know that?" she asked.

"It's me Molly, I notice things."

"And yet you can be incredible blind sometimes," she countered.

"Just take the flowers," Sherlock said impatiently, and Molly finally obeyed.

"I do like them," she said, studying the bouquet. He could have picked up any random Valentine's Day bouquet, but he had picked the flowers especially for her. Daisies because they were her favourite, roses for Valentine's Day, the tulips because she loved purple, and Hydrangeas were a way to ask for forgiveness.

"Molly," he put his index finger under her chin, to tilt her head back up so he could look into her eyes. "I am sorry, forgive me," there it was. The five words thats he had wanted to hear, and suddenly she found herself on her tiptoes, brushing her lips against his in a soft kiss. It only lasted a second, maybe two. But it was enough.

"Happy Valentine's Day," she said, blushing. Had she, Molly Hooper, really just kissed Sherlock Holmes? Putting this into her calendar would require a whole new set of glitter pens.

Before Sherlock could do or say anything to ruin the moment, Molly turned around, and disappeared in the crowd of people rushing home to their loved ones, leaving a stunned Detective behind.

xoxo

"How did it go?" John asked as Sherlock joined him in the cab that was waiting to take them home, his smile giving away that he had probably watched most – if not all - of the scene.

"She liked the flowers," Sherlock explained matter of factly.

"Great, oh and you got a little something right there," John pointed at Sherlock's mouth, and the detective checked his reflection in the window, before wiping the small lipstick stain off, choosing to ignore John's stupid grin for the rest of the cab ride.

* * *

><p><em>Happy Valentine's Day! (It's after midnight for me, so it's not too early haha). Reviews make me happy :) …and feel free to leave prompts, I might just end up using them in one of these.<em>

_Love Laura _


	14. Easter II

_Yes, another Easter Fluff piece. What can I say, it´s my favourite Holiday. Now grab a chocolate bunny, sit back, and enjoy..._

_(Just to avoid confusion, they aren't dating in this one)_

* * *

><p>"Ah Molly, I'm so glad you're here," John greeted her, as she got out of her car.<p>

"Well you made it sound rather urgent. Where exactly are we?" The pathologist asked, looking around. They were standing in the driveway of a rather impressive estate, surrounded by several cars, and a catering van. There must have been some kind of party going on Molly deduced, glad that she had decided to wear one of her nicer dresses this morning, it was Easter Sunday after all.

"Sherlock was bored, so he took a case," John started, leading her around the house into the garden. "A jewellery heist so to say. He said it wouldn't take him longer than ten minutes, but we have been here for an hour, and I've made plans that I can't cancel, but I also can't leave him alone with the culprit."

"So you want me to help him? What could I..." Molly's voice trailed of as they took another turn and entered the beautiful garden, where the Consulting Detective was sitting on the grass, staring intently at a little girl, who was sitting across from him mimicking his pose.

"What..." Molly eyes wandered from Sherlock, to John and back to Sherlock...

"Her father just proposed to his girlfriend, but when he opened the ring box, it was empty. Because the little Easter Bunny over there believes that all Easter goodies have to be hidden in the garden."

"So they hired Sherlock to find it?" Molly cut in, a smile curving her lips.

"Yes, and it looks like he finally found his match- In the form of a five year old…" John joked.

"I'm not sure how I can help though," Molly said a little hesitantly. Of course, she was thrilled about the idea of helping Sherlock on an actual case outside of the lab, but she also didn't want to embarrass herself by being too eager.

"Making sure that he doesn't accidentally kill her would be a good start."

"I think I can handle that," she replied with a smile.

"Great, have fun," John gave her her a friendly pat on the back, and disappeared while Molly consciously fixed her dress and walked over to the detective.

"Can I join you?"

"Molly, what are you doing here?" Sherlock asked, not even bothering to look up at her.

"John had to leave, so he asked me to help out," she explained. "Aren't you going to introduce me to you friend?"

"Molly, this is Poppy, and she has been very naughty."

"Hello Poppy, I'm Molly," Molly greeted the child.

"Are you Mister Sherlock's girlfriend?" Poppy asked, her blond curls bouncing as she looked up at Molly.

"No, Molly is my pathologist," Sherlock explained.

"What's a pathologist?"

"I'm a doctor, I work at the hospital and help Mister Sherlock with his cases," Molly answered before Sherlock could say anything about dead bodies.

"My daddy's a doctor, too," with that Poppy jumped up, and took Molly's hand, clutching a tattered plush rabbit in her other one.

"Do you want to help us? Mister Sherlock is looking for an Easter egg."

"I'd love to. "

"Don't encourage her," Sherlock said rolling his eyes.

"Poppy, can you leave us alone for a moment?" He asked, his chipper tone making the words sound like a foreign language to Molly.

"Are you going to kiss? I can just cover my eyes."

"No, what? Go. Over there," Sherlock pointed at one of the flowerbeds and Poppy simply shrugged and obeyed.

"What did John tell you?"

"Just that she stole an engagement ring, and that you were hired to find it," Molly replied.

"Yes, and the happy couple would like to make the announcement during their Easter party - with the ring. So we better find it before the party is over."

"Did you try bribing her?"

"With chocolate, money, and piggybacks rides around the garden. What I would do for a double murder right now..." Sherlock explained, murmuring the last part.

"We can do this, it's going to be fun. I bet you loved hunting Easter eggs as a boy."

"I did not, the concept that someone hides something, and then sends you out to find it is ridiculous."

"Ok, but I did, and I used to be very good at it," Molly said with a smile, this was her chance to impress Sherlock.

xoxo

A few hours later there was still no sign of the lost ring and after every single one of Sherlock's attempts to get Poppy to talk had failed, it was time for extremer measures...

"This is fun," Poppy giggled watching Sherlock climb up a tree in order to examine a birdhouse.

"Sherlock, I don't think she could have gotten up there," Molly said, worried that the Detective might fall.

"You are clearly underestimating her," Sherlock replied, reaching for the birdhouse.

"It's empty," he noted in frustration, before throwing the small construction to the ground.

"Come on, we haven't looked by the tulips, yet." Molly took Poppy's hand, giving Sherlock a moment to calm down.

"Is Mister Sherlock angry at me?" Poppy asked looking up at Molly.

"No, don't worry. He's just upset because he can't find the ring."

"I´m really good at hiding things," Poppy replied proudly.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell me where you hid it? You know if we find it you'll loose, but if we give up, and you just give it back you'll be the Easter egg hunt champion."

"Hmmm..." Poppy thought for a moment. "Mr. Sherlock!" She yelled,

"What?" The Detective, who was just coming down the tree, answered in annoyance.

"Are you giving up?"

"Never!"

"Ok!" with that Poppy walked off to her swing set.

"Well done, " Molly commented as Sherlock walked past her.

"What?"

"Never mind, I'm gonna look in her playhouse. Again."

xoxo

"Can I make you some tea?" Poppy asked, joining Molly in the small playhouse.

"That would be lovely," Molly replied. Maybe playing along would make Poppy more cooperative.

"Here," Poppy pretended to pour tea from the kettle into the little plastic cups, and handed Molly one.

"I always ask Finn to have tea with me, but he says it's stupid."

"Who is Finn?"

"His dad cuts the roses, he's seven."

"Is he your boyfriend?" Molly teased.

"I'm only five! Oh, do you think Mister Sherlock wants to join us?" She jumped up and looked out of the window to see what Sherlock was doing.

"I'm afraid he also thinks tea parties are stupid."

"Boys are silly."

"Tell me about it," Molly murmured pretending to take a sip of tea.

"Do you love him?"

"What?" The question took Molly by surprise.

"Mister Sherlock, do you love him?"

"He's my friend, of course I love him."

"But do you want to marry him?"

Molly laughed. "Why are you so interested in this?"

"Because I like you, and I like Mister Sherlock. Even though he's a bit grumpy. But he makes me laugh. So do you?"

"He's not really the marrying type."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that we shouldn't get our hopes up. He doesn't even know that I like him."

"Oh," Poppy replied, sounding a bit sad. "That´s too bad, because I am a really good flower girl."

"You can be the flower girl at your dad's wedding, but you'll have to give the ring back or there will be no wedding."

"I don't care, I'd rather throw flowers at you and Mister Sherlock," with that she ran out to find Sherlock.

xoxo

"You are a bad detective!" Poppy said, walking up to Sherlock.

"Usually I have clues, or cooperative witnesses, something more than 'It's in the garden'."

"I don't mean the ring, silly. I mean Molly."

"What are you talking about?" Sherlock crouched down to be at eye-level with her.

"She likes you, and you don't even know."

"That's not true."

"It is, and it's making her sad."

"Did she say that?"

"No but I can tell, because I," she pointed at herself for emphasis, "am a good detective."

xoxo

"This is hopeless," Molly commented, carefully pushing the branches of a rosebush aside to look behind it, when she suddenly felt something warm around around her shoulders. Standing up she realized that it was Sherlock's suit jacket.

"You looked cold," Sherlock explained matter of factly.

"Thanks."

"And it is not hopeless," he assured her.

"We looked under every stone and bush in this garden Sherlock, I crawled under the hedge, I ruined my dress..."

"I didn't mean the case," Sherlock explained.

"Oh," She realized. "You, you weren't supposed to hear that, I was just humouring Poppy. I didn't think she'd tell you..."

"She's five."

"Right," they both laughed before their eyes met in an intent gaze.

"It was nice that you came today, I appreciate it. I appreciate you, even if I don't always show it."

Until now Molly hadn't even realized how close they were standing, only half a step forward and she would have been able too...

"Mister Sherlock!"

"What is it?" Sherlock stepped back, and turned around to see what Poppy wanted.

"I don't want to play anymore, I'm hungry. I want my Easter Candy," she tucked on Sherlock's sleeve until he gave in and lifted her up.

"So do I, but we have to find the ring first," Sherlock sighed to express his disappointment.

"I gave it to Alexander," Poppy explained.

"Who's Alexander?"

"The rabbit," Molly realized. "Poppy, can I have Alexander for a minute?"

"Here," the child handed Molly the toy, and Molly opened the zipper on the its back, that neither her nor Sherlock had noticed before.

"Is this what you're looking for?" Molly asked, showing Sherlock a diamond ring.

"Explain yourself," Sherlock said, giving the girl a curious look.

"I won," she stated grinning at Sherlock.

"You cheated! You said you hid it in the garden."

"And Alexander was in the garden with us," she reasoned, proud that she had fooled the Detective.

"You can't really argue with that," Molly cut in.

"But this was a colossal waste of my time. You made us crawl though the dirt for hours, I climbed up a tree" Sherlock argued.

"You're the Detective, you should have figured it out," Poppy shrugged.

"You little..." Before Sherlock could say more Poppy threw her arms around his neck and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"I won."

xoxo

"Are you sure you don't want to stay a little longer?" Poppy's father asked, after Sherlock had handed him the ring, and his daughter.

"We should be going, but it was a pleasure meeting your daughter," Sherlock replied, while Poppy whispered something into her father's ear.

"That's a great idea Darling," he said, putting her down.

"She wants me to invite you to the wedding, but only if you promise to come together."

"That's sounds reasonable," Sherlock replied, "what do you think?" He added, smiling at Molly.

"I'd love to."

"I'll be right back," Poppy announced running into the house, only to come back a minute later, a golden chocolate bunny in her hand.

"Here," she handed it to Sherlock.

"What's that for?"

"You earned it. You're getting better at that Detective thing," Poppy explained, followed by her best attempt at a wink.

* * *

><p><em>That's it, a few of you requested Sherlock with a kid, so I came up with this little criminal mastermind. I hope I didn't disappoint. Reviews (and more requests) are always welcome! <em>

_Lots of Love (and sunshine),_

_Laura_


	15. Revenge

_Most of this was written in a pain killer induced haze, after I got my wisdom teeth out last week, but I'm all better now and could finally finish it. Enjoy :)_

_(they are not dating in this one)_

* * *

><p>"Molly," Sherlock turned on the light in the lab, and found the pathologist sitting alone on the ratty sofa in the corner.<p>

"Sherlock, I thought I was alone..." Molly stammered, wiping her eyes, hoping that Sherlock wouldn't notice the mascara streaks on her cheeks...

"What's wrong?" of course he noticed.

"Nothing I'm fine, just allergies, the cleaners used something new for the floor."

"Don't lie, Molly."

"I'm not, did you want to finish your experiment?" She tried to distract him, the last thing she needed was Sherlock Holmes lecturing her about feelings.

"What's his name?"

"How..."

"You're wearing a dress, and significantly more make-up than when I saw you this morning, but your shoes, as well as your coat over there, are dry, despite the storm outside – so you were expecting to go out, but it never happened. He cancelled or – judging from your tears – broke it of all together."

"Josh, he's a cardiac surgeon. Works upstairs, and didn't even have the decency to come here to tell me in person, he sent a text..." Molly explained as Sherlock picked up her phone from the floor, and read said text.

"He's an idiot."

"No, I'm the idiot for thinking that I was special, even though he's flirting with every woman in this hospital..." the tears started rolling again.

"Molly..." not sure what to do, Sherlock pondered for a moment before joining her on the sofa.

"He's not worth the tears."

That didn't work.

"You're better off without him," he tried again with the same results...

"Oh for god's sake Molly please stop crying!"

"Why? Am I keeping you from your experiment? Would you rather have me waiting outside?" She snapped back.

"I want you to stop because I don't like seeing you like this!"

"Because you care about me..." Molly replied rolling her eyes.

"Of course I do," Sherlock replied, almost surprised that she was questioning his intentions.

"You have strange way of showing that."

"I never sent you a text like that."

"Because you never had a reason to. You'd have to ask me out first."

"Well, you're all dressed up, and you look like you could use a bite to eat, so how about dinner?"

"Are you serious?" She looked up at at him with damp eyes.

"I wouldn't have suggested it, if I were not," with that he brought his hand up to her face, catching a tear with his thumb before tucking a loose strand of hair back behind her ear.

Molly felt the muscles in her throat clench as his eyes lingered on hers just a moment too long, making her heart beat ten times it's usual pace...

"Sherlock..." She whispered, waiting for him to pull back. But he didn't, and she simply didn't have enough will power to not close the little bit of distance that was left between them...

The kiss was gentle, almost hesitant, at first, but grew more urgent with every second that passed. Neither of them was sure who had been the first to deepen the kiss, or when Sherlock's coat and suit jacket had landed on the floor, or how Molly had ended up on his lap, straddling him on the sofa as her fingers tightened almost painfully in the hair at the base of his neck...

"Molly..." the Detective moaned as Molly let her lips wander down to his neck while her fingers were busy with the buttons of his shirt. She was so lost in the moment that she didn't even notice how his hands weren't roaming up and down her back anymore like they had been just a few seconds ago...

"Molly..." he tried again, before Molly brought her lips back to his in a frantic attempt to hold on to him, to what they were doing...

But this time he didn't respond.

"Stop," he firmly grabbed her arms and pushed her off his lap, before getting up himself.

"I'm sorry," Molly apologized, feeling the tears build up again, as she watched him pick up his clothes from the floor.

"Just..." He turned around to look at her. "Not like this. Do you understand?"

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Okay. Call a cab, do not walk home it's raining," and with that he was gone, leaving her behind in the cold lab...

xoxo

"That took long. I thought you just wanted to check on your experiment, in an out in a minute..." John commented as Sherlock joined him in the cab waiting infront of Bart's.

"221B Baker Street," Sherlock gave the driver the address, and the car started moving.

"I got held up," he explained.

"Did one of the bodies in the morgue come alive and attack you?" John joked, giving Sherlock a suspicious look. He had never seen his friend like this: out of breath for no apparent reason, his skin flushed, and was that...

"Is that lipstick?" John asked, pushing Sherlock´s collar down to get a better look.

"I ran into Molly..." Sherlock muttered pushing the Doctor's hand away. He had fixed his shirt, but forgotten about the stains Molly's makeup had left on the white fabric.

"What?"

"She was crying, I tried to comfort her, it was stupid."

"Was she crying before or after that happened?" John inquired further, pointing at the red marks.

"Both," Sherlock replied dryly.

"So you just left?

" I had to."

"Did she tell you to?"

"No, she was crying. Keep up with me." Sherlock snapped as the car stopped, but John held him back as he reached for the door.

"I'm getting out, you're going back. Talk to her. Do something. Fix it."

xoxo

"Of course..." Molly mumbled, reaching for extra napkins to dry the fresh coffee stain on her lab-coat. She should have just taken a sick day, no one would blame her. Dumped twice in one night. That was new, even for her.

"Molly, did you hear?" Molly inwardly cringed as Alison, a new intern, joined her by the coffee machine. It wasn't that Molly didn't like her, but in the short time that she had been at Bart's Alison had already become the first address for anything gossip related, and the last thing Molly wanted right now was to hear which nurse the hot new doctor was shagging now...

"No, I'm afraid my patients aren't very chatty," she replied, earning a strange look from Alison who needed a few seconds to understand the joke.

"Oh right, because they are dead, that's funny. But anyway you are going to want to hear this. That new doctor? He had a girl on every floor, but somehow all his emails to them ended up on the bulletin board, few photos too. I do not want to be him right now..."

"Do you know who did it?" Molly asked, trying her best not to sound too shocked.

"No, I guess one of the girls found out. Well he's definitely getting what he deserves now. Too bad though, he was hot..." Allison trailed of a dreamy look on her face.

"Are you okay?" she asked, noticing that Molly was suddenly looking a little pale.

"Yeah, I just...I gotta get back to work."

"Okay," Alison smiled, and scanned the room for the next person to share the news with.

xoxo

"Ah Molly, how you're feeling?" John greeted her as she entered the lab.

"Where's Sherlock?" She asked, noticing the familiar coat draped over a chair, the man himself was, however, nowhere in sight.

"Hiding. From you I assume. Listen, I don't want to pry, but I'm just wondering what happened. He's with you all night, barely says a word this morning..."

"What? No he wasn't."

"You don't have to lie, I know what happened."

"I'm not, he was only here for ten minutes, maybe 15. We.." she blushed. "Well you know, he ran out, I stayed until I was feeling better, and went home. That's it."

"But, he said he was at Bart's all night..." John wondered out loud.

"So it was him..." Molly mumbled a smile spreading on her lips.

"What?"

"I just..." I that moment Sherlock entered the lab, only acknowledging Molly with a nod, but the pathologist had other plans, and before Sherlock realized what was happening she stood between him and the microscope.

"Thank you," She got up on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on the detective's cheek.

"He had it coming," Sherlock replied dryly.

"Who had what coming?" John asked, visibly confused by what as going on.

"How?" Molly asked.

"Please, his password was coronary artery." Breaking in into the surgeon's office had been child's play, but the results had been more than satisfactory Sherlock thought, smiling at the visual of the angry women in front of said office.

"You didn't have to do that."

"He hurt you, I had to do something. John would you give us a moment?"

"Sure," John followed his friend's request. He could always get an explanation later.

"So you're not mad at me?" Molly asked as soon as they were alone, surprised that he hadn't pushed her away yet.

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"I kissed you and you ran out, that sent a pretty clear message."

"Molly, if I had stayed we would have done something we'd both regret now. You were crying, and if this happens I don't want it to be under these circumstances, and definitely not on that thing..." he looked over to the sofa in mock disgust.

"Sherlock Holmes, a romantic, who would have thought," Molly said with a relieved smile.

"This has nothing to do with romance, it's about respect. I'm not Josh."

"And you couldn't have explained that last night?"

"I needed to clear my head, and I hope I can make it up to you. So how about that dinner?"

"Are you serious?"

"Oh were not doing that again, I'll pick you up at eight," with that he leaned down, and brushed a soft kiss against the corner of her mouth, before he turned around to meet John in the hallway.

"So big date tonight?" John asked, not even trying to pretend that he hadn't been eavesdropping.

"Just dinner."

"Ok," John simply nodded.

"So what did you do last night? I know you didn't go back to Molly."

"I had to take care of something," Sherlock explained as a man in scrubs, who was desperately trying to reason with two yelling nurses, crossed their way.

"Do you know what that's about?" John asked.

"I have no idea," the detective replied with a smirk.

* * *

><p><em>Woo, I hope you liked it. Reviews and Ideas are always welcome ;)<em>

_Love Laura _


	16. Room Service

_Thanks so much for all the lovely comments on the last chapter! Now on to new fluff..._

* * *

><p>"Keep it down!" Sherlock hissed as he opened the door to his suite.<p>

"Room service Sir, you ordered breakfast."

"Yes, but there is no need to inform the entire hotel about it, is there?" Sherlock stepped aside, so the waiter could see the sleeping woman in the bed.

"Ah, you want to surprise her."

"It was a long night, she needs rest, which she won't get if you are banging on the door like a maniac," Sherlock explained, not sure why he was even bothering.

"Got it mate," the young man winked at Sherlock, and rolled the wagon with the breakfast into the room, before he left quickly and quietly.

"Idiot..." Sherlock mumbled as he carefully closed the door and made his way back to the bed. Discarding his bathrobe on the floor before crawling back under the covers, and wrapping an arm around his companion.

"So do you want some of that breakfast, or are you going to pretend to be asleep until lunch?" He whispered after a few minutes had passed.

"How did you know?" She opened her eyes and turned around to face him.

"Pulse, breathing patterns..."

"Oh..."

"Good morning Molly," he tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear before he leaned in to kiss her.

"Good morning," she blushed, the hot feeling in her cheeks reminding her that this was indeed actually happening, and not just a product of her imagination.

"So?" Sherlock gave her a questioning look.

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you pretend to be asleep?"

"I..." She tried to find the right words. "I just didn't want the night to be over, I was afraid..."

"You were afraid I'd regret it," Sherlock interrupted her.

She nodded.

"But I am still here."

"Well it is your room..."

"And my clothes are still on the floor," he countered.

"It's just...I dreamt about this so many times, and this is always the part where I wake up and you are gone."

"You have dreams about me?" Sherlock questioned with a smirk.

"Oh god..." Molly just wanted to pull the covers over her head, and hide under them forever. But the man to her right had other plans.

"Did I live up to them?" The question turned her embarrassment into confusion.

"Excuse me?"

"Did I live up to them?" He repeated. "If there is a big discrepancy between the expectations of your subconscious and the real experience, then it would only be profitable to know about it."

"Are you serious?"

"Of course I am."

"Well..." She started, still confused about the turn the conversation had taken. "There is definitely a discrepancy."

"Oh," Sherlock's face fell.

"You..." She brought her hand up to his neck, letting her fingers get lost in his unruly curls "...exceeded all expectations."

"Maybe we really should stay in bed until lunch..." Sherlock replied, his voice getting huskier with each word...

"Wait..." Molly turned away as he wanted to close the distance between them.

"What's wrong?"

"What is going to happen after lunch?"

"Tea?"

"Sherlock..." Molly couldn't help but smile, almost forgetting why she had stopped him, but there was one thing that she wanted more, than she wanted him right now: an answer to the question that had been haunting her all morning.

"I mean us, what is this?"

"Molly," he expression was serious now. "Last night, was the result of too much adrenalin, and various other chemicals, that were released after seeing a gun being pointed at your head, but as we just established I am still here, and I don't see any gun wielding maniacs in this room."

Molly opened her mouth to speak, but Sherlock stopped her.

"I am aware that that did not not answer your question, but it is the only answer I can give you at this point," he explained, an apologetic look on his face, and Molly just nodded.

"So technically you are saying that you need to collect further data, right?" She asked.

"That's one way to put it," with that he leaned in again, wanting to close the distance between them, and this time she let him.

xoxo

"That can't be right, are you sure you have the right room numbers?" Lestrade asked. He and John were standing at the front desk of the Hotel. Figuring, that Molly was still recovering from the events of the previous night, and that Sherlock just wasn't in the mood to join them, they hadn't worried when neither the pathologist nor the detective had made an appearance in the breakfast room. But that had been over an hour ago, and now it was time to leave.

"Yes Sir, it's the charges for the four rooms you booked plus the room service, and the champagne," the young woman at the desk explained.

"Champagne?" John gave her a questioning look.

"It's what the computer says, Sir."

"Thank you," Lestrade turned around.

"I'm sure that's a mistake," John said. "Sherlock wouldn't order champagne for breakfast."

"I don't care what it is, but we've been waiting long enough. I'll see what is taking Molly so long, and you figure out what Sleeping Beauty is up to."

xoxo

"Sherlock?" After knocking multiple times, and not getting a reply, John carefully opened the unlocked door.

"At least he's up..." he mumbled noticing the sound of the running shower, as he stepped into the suite, and inspected the room service wagon with the untouched breakfast.

"What is..." he picked up the champagne bottle.

"Sherlock, would you mind..." his voice trailed of as his eyes caught sight of the clothes around the bed.

"Hey is Sherlock up? Molly wasn't in her room," Lestrade entered the suite, oblivious to the things that were going on behind the bathroom door.

"Oh he's up, and so is Molly apparently..." John's eyes wandered back to the items on the floor.

"No..." Lestrade gasped when he realized what he had walked into.

"Sherlock and Molly? In there?" His question was answered by the laughter that became audible once the water stopped.

"Let's get out of here," John quickly ushered Lestrade to the door, closing it just as the happy couple – now both wrapped in white towels – stumbled back into the room.

"Did you hear that?" Sherlock asked, breaking their contact.

"What?" Molly replied but the Detective shushed her.

"Nothing," he said after a moment of silence. "Must have been next door..." with that he leaned in again, meeting her lips in one more longing kiss, before he let go of her and started collecting his clothes from the floor.

"I wish we wouldn't have to leave," Molly said, snacking on a strawberry from the forgotten breakfast.

"That would be quite intriguing, but I bet John and Lestrade are already pacing circles downstairs, and I don't want them barging in here," Sherlock explained.

"But..." he stopped buttoning his shirt to help Molly with the zipper of her dress, "there's no reason why we can't continue this at home," he said pulling the zipper up, finishing the action by brushing his lips over her neck in a feathery kiss.

xoxo

"What do you mean the room is paid for for the rest of the weekend?"

"Your friends checked out 20 minutes ago and said you'd be staying another day, the Detective Inspector told me to give you this," the desk attendant handed Sherlock a note.

"Thank you."

"What is it?" Molly asked, as Sherlock unfolded the paper.

"Room's on us, champagne on you. Have fun," she read out, and couldn't help but laugh. Sherlock, on the other hand, looked a bit irritated for a moment but seeing Molly's smile made him warm up to the idea.

"They must have come looking for us when we were in the shower," he thought out loud.

"You mean they..." Molly blushed.

"Yes," he nodded, the faintest hint of red spreading across his cheeks.

"Well, it looks like you just got your wish Miss Hooper."

"Oh, I think I'm up to double digits," she laughed, leaning into his side as they made their way back to their room.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you enjoyed this little cotton ball of a chapter. Reviews are welcome, and I always love to hear your requests and ideas. <em>

_Love,_

_Laura_


	17. Garden Party

Thanks so much for all the sweet reviews on the last chapter! Now on to new fluff:

* * *

><p>Molly checked her watch and sighed, feeling lost among the glamourous party guests that surrounded her.<p>

"You better didn't leave without me Karen..." the pathologist mumbled, wondering why she had let herself be talked into attending this ridiculous thing. Garden party was the wrong word. Granted, they were in a garden, but the exclusive event was more reminiscent of a fancy cocktail party, which Molly was reminded of every time one of the many couture clad women in their six inch heels bumped into her, simply overlooking the girl in the blue cotton dress.

The only reason she was even at the party was that her friend Karen had received the tickets to the Charity event from her boss. 'It will be fun, you need to get out more, maybe you'll even meet someone...' she had convinced Molly to join her. But then one of the celebrity guests - an actor or model they all looked the same to Molly - had been rather smitten with Karen, and that was the last Molly had seen of her.

"These things are tedious, aren't they?"

"What..." Molly spun around, and found the owner of the familiar voice standing behind her.

"Walk with me," the Detective, dressed in his usual suit and a light blue shirt, that almost matched her dress, took off his dark sunglasses and put his right hand on the small of her back, guiding her though the crowd.

"Drunk actors, starving models, and the usual parade of anything that ends on '-ista,' '- ante', or '-ite'," Sherlock explained as they made their way to the bar. "I couldn't imagine a duller company," he added, stopping to order two drinks, not bothering to ask Molly what she wanted. Not that he had to, he got it right.

"Thank you," Molly said as Sherlock handed her the glass.

"So, how do you fit in with all of this?" He asked.

"I'm here with my friend Karen, but she abandoned me. What about you? This doesn't seem like your scene,either."

"John," Sherlock pointed at a couple on the other side of the dance floor, that formed the centre of the celebration.

"Who is his date?" Molly asked, not recognising the woman with the blond doctor.

"Mary something. He wanted to take her somewhere special, and I had an invitation, so..."

"That was nice of you," Molly interrupted, a warm smile curving her lips.

"You have no idea how nice..." Sherlock mumbled.

"What do you mean?" She asked, but before the Detective got a chance to respond a tall blonde entered the scene.

"There you are Darling, I'm starting to think you are avoiding me on purpose."

"Great Deduction," Sherlock replied mimicking the woman's sweet tone.

"Handsome and funny, you are quite the catch," the woman said and Molly nodded in agreement, trying hard not to laugh.

"Molly this is Mrs Sheridan, she is a former client of mine, and the host of this event," Sherlock introduced his admirer. She must have been well into her 50s, but the way she carried herself, and the results of frequent visits to her plastic surgeon made her appear younger than her actual age.

"I told you it's Katherine," She gave Sherlock a scolding look before turning to Molly. "Hello Dear, I hope you're having a great time."

"I am, it's a wonderful party."

"Good then you won't mind, if I steal Sherlock for a dance or five," Katherine reached for Sherlock's hand, but the Detective quickly put his arm around Molly.

"Actually, I think she will mind."

"And why is that?" Katherine asked, looking at Sherlock like she owned him and at Molly like she wanted to tear the younger woman's hair out.

"Because Molly here is my girlfriend, and I'm afraid that I already promised her the next dance," Sherlock explained.

"You never mentioned a girlfriend," Katherine stated, her tone implying a good amount of disbelief.

"Oh, I don't like to talk about my private life when I'm working."

"And how long have the two of you been together?"

"A year," Molly replied, right when Sherlock's answered the question with '6 months'.

"We've known each other for a year, but the spark didn't cross over until six months ago, isn't that right sweetheart," Sherlock tried to fix the mistake, hoping that Katherine would buy the lie.

"Yes," Molly smiled sweetly back at him and leaned her head against his shoulder. Figuring that she might as well enjoy it while it lasted – whatever 'it' was.

"Oh that's our song!" As the DJ started playing a slower tune, Sherlock took Molly's drink, and put it down on a table next to his, before dragging her out onto the dance floor, leaving a rather irritated Katherine behind.

"Care to explain?" Molly asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

"She hired me to find out which one of her three ex husbands was trying to kill her, and to thank me she wants to make me number four. In retrospect I regret interfering with the murderer's plan."

"And you are enduring all of this just so John can impress his date."

"I may owe him something after conducting an experiment on him without asking for his consent first," Sherlock laughed, pulling Molly closer to him as he realized that Katherine was still watching the pair like a hawk waiting to attack its bait.

"Sorry," Molly apologized, as the sudden contact caused her to stumble.

"We've been in a serious relationship for 6 months, which normally includes frequent intercourse, so try not to blush or lose your balance each time I touch you. And Molly," he leaned in closer, his lips almost touching her ear.

"...thank you."

"Always," she whispered, as they fell back into the rhythm of the music.

xoxo

"It looks like your friend found a way to kill the time," John's date Mary commented.

"Oh no, did she finally get him?" John followed Mary's line of vision, expecting to find Sherlock with Katherine.

"Oh that's Molly," he explained, surprised to see the pathologist. "She works at the morgue with him. I wonder what she's doing here."

"Well right now she is dancing with your flatmate, and they look pretty good out there. What do you say, shall we join them?"

"I'd love to," John replied, eager to find out what Sherlock was up to now.

xoxo

"Is she still watching us?" Sherlock asked spinning Molly around, so she could get a better look at the crowd.

"Yes, and she's not looking very happy," Molly replied.

"Great," He sighed, "that woman is insufferable, I wish..." Sherlock didn't get a chance to finish the sentence as Molly reached up, and pulled his head down, bringing them together a fierce kiss.

For the first few seconds Sherlock's eyes were wide open, but then the feeling of Molly's fingers tightening in the hair at the base of his neck, and the sensation of her lips on his, sent a rush of adrenalin through his body, and he finally pulled her closer and steadied her in his arms as he deepened the kiss.

Molly smiled against his lips, as they both eased into the kiss. She knew that he was only returning the kiss because he had also noticed Katherine approaching, but right now she couldn't care less. A few minutes ago she had felt completely invisible, and now she was kissing Sherlock Holmes in the middle of the dance floor, and judging by the way his gentle hands slid up and down her back she wasn't the only one enjoying it.

It didn't end until they heard John's voice, "Will you be needing the flat to yourself tonight?" Their eyes fluttered open simultaneously, before their lips parted.

"I..." Sherlock was at a loss for words, but noted with satisfaction that Katherine had returned to the bar. Molly, having found confidence in her victory, acknowledged the older woman with a nod, before she turned to John and Mary.

"I was just helping out," she explained.

"Well my offer stands," John winked at his friend, earning a playful nudge from Mary, before the couple decided to give Sherlock and Molly a little privacy.

"That was rather bold, I'm.., " Sherlock finally spoke.

"I'm so sorry, I just wanted to help. I didn't..." Molly started to apologize but Sherlock put a finger over her lips.

"I'm impressed, but you do realize that you will have to keep this up now, right?"

"I think I can handle that," Molly replied with a smile.

xoxo

After a few more rounds on the dance floor the pair was in need for a break, and Molly found herself alone at a table while Sherlock had left to get new drinks.

"Congratulations," Katherine said, joining the pathologist.

"Thank you..." Molly's response sounded more like a question than a statement.

"I've been married three times, I can tell when a man is lying to me. But I also know when it's time to admit defeat, and with the way that boy looks at you when he thinks no one can see him, I don't stand a chance. God knows why," she gave Molly a quick once-over before she turned around on her heel, whispering something to Sherlock as she passed him in the crowd.

"What did she say to you?" Molly gave him a curious look.

"She just wanted to let me know that the guest-house is unlocked in case we need it," Sherlock replied, laughing as he realized what Katherine had implied.

"What a generous offer," Molly joked.

"But unnecessary."

"Right," Molly said, realizing that Sherlock didn't need her anymore.

"I mean, John offered us the flat, right?" He said, a smirk on his lips, as he took a sip from his drink.

* * *

><p>Gotta love a good Garden Party...<p>

So it's only a few minutes until my Birthday, and I figured I'd give you a little present so I'd have a lot of reviews and Birthday wishes to read through in the morning. Let's see how that works out.

Many thanks and all the best! Laura


	18. After the Party

_You asked for it so here it is, a little sequel to the previous chapter to thank you for the overwhelming amount of reviews and all the birthday wishes. Enjoy._

* * *

><p>"I believe protocol suggests that I escort you home," Sherlock commented. The fake couple had said their good byes to Katherine, as well as John and Mary, and was now waiting for a cab.<p>

"Oh, you really don't have to. I can manage to get home by myself," Molly said, trying not to sound too disappointed. Part of her had actually hoped that his earlier comment about having the flat to themselves hadn't been a joke.

"In fact, I think I'm going to walk, it's such a nice evening. Good night," with that Molly started walking in what she suspected was the right direction, leaving a confused Sherlock behind.

"How about dinner?" He stopped her as soon as his surprise about her reaction had worn off.

"What?" Molly turned around so quickly that she almost tripped over her own feet.

"To thank you. For tonight."

"I'd love to!" Her eyes lit up with excitement and the disappointment from just a few minutes ago was forgotten.

"Shall we then?" He asked, and Molly nodded.

"Maybe we should go this way though," Sherlock pointed out, causing her to blush.

"I knew where I was going," she mumbled as they started walking into the opposite direction.

Somewhere along the way Sherlock had taken off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders, and Molly had gladly taken it. This really was the perfect date, the party, the dancing, the kiss – the thought of that particular moment brought a smile to her lips...

"What are you smiling about?" Sherlock asked with genuine curiosity.

"Oh I just, I thought about how glad I am that Karen made me go to the party."

"So am I, if it hadn't been for you that woman would have..." Sherlock shuddered at the thought.

"Let's just say I'm glad that you were there."

"Oh come on, you didn't need me," Molly countered.

"You are correct. I did not need you, but letting you save me was..." he thought for a moment, "It was fun."

Just as Molly opened her mouth to reply, she was startled by a loud crack of thunder that was followed by a few raindrops, but as soon as Molly looked up to the sky it started pouring.

"Come on," Sherlock grabbed her hand and they started running through the rain until they came to a stop at the restaurant. The closed restaurant.

"Well it looks like we will have to resort to plan B."

"And what is that?" Molly asked, seeking shelter under the restaurant's small canopy.

"Take out at Baker Street," Sherlock explained.

"Baker Street isn't that far from here, is it?"

"Are you suggesting we make a run for it?"

"It's just a shower, it's kinda nice. Romantic even, and it beats waiting it out here, we're already soaked anyway," Molly shrugged.

"Romantic?" Sherlock gave her a questioning look, making her realize what she had just said.

"I, I mean..." Molly blushed. "The concept, of walking through the rain, it's a romantic concept. The concept is romantic, not us doing it of course. Since this is not a romantic occasion, in any..."

"Molly?" Sherlock interrupted her, a smile on his lips.

"Yes," She looked at him with big eyes.

"Jacket."

"Oh, of course," she slipped out of the jacket that he had given her earlier and handed him the wet garment. So much for Sherlock the gentleman.

"What are you doing?" She asked when he didn't put in on but instead held it up like a tent over them.

"Isn't it much more romantic this way," Sherlock replied, his tone rather teasing but Molly didn't care and simply leaned into him, wrapping on arm around his waist to bring them closer together.

"Now it is," she added shyly as they started walking through the rain.

Sherlock had soon given up every attempt to cover them with his jacket. This was, however, no reason for Molly to let go of him. And so the couple eventually arrived at Baker Street with a bag of by now also dripping wet Chinese, that they had picked up on the way.

"I told you it would be nice," Molly said shivering a little, she hadn't noticed how cold she was until Sherlock had stepped away from her to open the door.

"You should see yourself, you look ridiculous," Sherlock teased her. And he was right: Her dress clung to her body, her hair, that had been up in a messy bun before, was now hanging down in wet strands, and her sensible heels were muddy from the shortcuts they had taken. Thank god she hadn't worn any dark makeup.

"You don't..." She wanted to counter but swallowed her words as she looked at the detective.

"You were saying?"

"You don't look much better," She quickly said, not meaning any of it. The water had turned his light blue shirt see-through, leaving noting to the imagination, and she had to admit that he did look quite dashing with his hair pushed back to keep the water out of his eyes.

"We should get out of these wet clothes," he said, or rather purred, driving Molly crazy. If this were any other man, she would have interpreted the line as an attempt to get her out of her clothes and then right into his bed, but this was Sherlock. And Sherlock didn't...

"Please don't do this," she suddenly said, earning a confused look from him.

"Do what?"

"Getting my hopes up. Your comment at the party, you asking me to have dinner with you, turning everything that leaves your lips into an innuendo – even though that might just be my brain..."

"I did not realize that I was making you uncomfortable. I was under the impression that you were enjoying yourself," Sherlock replied matter of factly.

"I was! I am, I just need to know if..." she struggled to find the right words.

"You didn't misunderstand anything. Yes my remark about the flat was made in an attempt to make you laugh because I noticed that you were a little tense after..."

"After I kissed you," Molly blushed again.

"Yes, but offering to take you out for dinner was exactly what it was, me wanting to spend the evening with you. As for the clothes," he leaned in, and Molly's heart stopped as she listened to the words he whispered into her ear.

"...I can't deny that your dress is having the same effect on me, as my shirt is obviously having on you," with that he stepped back again, giving her a moment to decide what she wanted to do with the new information.

"This isn't some kind of experiment?" Molly asked, the tension almost tangible by now.

"I don't ask the subjects of my experiments for consent, remember?"

"Yes," her lips curved into a smile as she remembered their conversation from the dance floor. And with that they both leaned in to close the last bit of distance between them – and this time it was just them, no Katherine, no John, no downpour, and no...

"Oh my, look at you two. What were you doing out in a storm like that?" Sherlock and Molly jumped apart as Mrs Hudson stepped out of her door.

"Hello Mrs Hudson," Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"You are going to catch your death," she ordered, fumbling with the buttons of Sherlock's shirt until the Detective stopped her.

"We were just about to go upstairs to change before dinner," he help up the bag with their soaked food.

"You're not eating that," she took the bag from him. "I am going to make you a nice soup, you need something that'll warm you up."

"Thank you, that would be lovely," Molly thanked her, trying her best to hide her amusement about the situation.

"I'll bring it up. And tell him to give you one of his warm dressing gowns, dear. Not that ridiculous silk one..." she mumbled as she headed back into her flat.

"We need to have a talk about boundaries," Sherlock noted.

"She means well," Molly replied.

"But her timing needs work," with that Sherlock leaned in again, taking Molly by surprise but she quickly adjusted to the sensation of his lips on hers...

"I don't hear any footsteps," they heard Mrs Hudson shout from her kitchen. "If you're not out of those wet clothes in five minutes, I will..."

"Don't worry Mrs Hudson, I'll take care of it," Molly cut her off, laughing as Sherlock picked her up her up and carried her up the stairs and into his flat, slamming the door shut behind them.

* * *

><p><em>Lets hope Mrs Hudson takes her time with that soup ;) Reviews, Requests, and Ideas are always appreciated.<em>

_Love Laura_


	19. Pool

_My exams are over, so here's a new story to celebrate (loosely inspired by the actual heat wave, that seems to be torturing many of us). _

_And I know that some of you wanted a sequel to the last chapter, but to me it felt right to end it there. Just use your imagination to fill in the blanks, it´s better than anything I could ever write ;)_

* * *

><p>Sherlock hated the heat. The last few days had been unbearable, and even though the sun had set hours ago the temperature seemed to refuse to drop. Where was all that rain London was famous for? He wondered as he made<p>

his way through the garden of the hotel where Lestrade had just arrested the fiancé of a young socialite for murdering the girl's father in an elaborate ploy to get to her bank account. And he would have gotten away with it if Molly hadn't discovered the almost untraceable poison in the last minute.

"Molly there you are, Lestrade is giving us a ride back to..." the Detective's voice trailed off as he saw the pathologist sitting on the edge of the hotel's pool, her feet dangling in the water.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Just cooling off. The water's nice." She smiled at him. Thanks to the combination of Sherlock's aversion to the weather, and the mortuary's great air conditioning system, the Detective had spent most of the week at the pathologist's side. At first it hadn't been different from his usual visits. He would come in, demand whatever tools or body parts he required and maybe ask her to fetch him a coffee. But by the end of the week something between them had changed, it was almost like...

"I see," Sherlock interrupted her train of thought and took a seat on one of the deck chairs behind her.

"That does look rather tempting," he commented.

"Come on, take your shoes of and join me," she suggested with a smile.

"I assume Lestrade will need a few minutes to wrap everything up," Sherlock reasoned and started to unbutton his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Molly asked, slightly confused.

"I want to cool off, and this is a lot more efficient than your way of doing it," he explained, and Molly found it rather hard to object as she watched him strip down to his boxers.

"But we're not even guests here..."

"We just arrested a killer, they have other things to worry about," he explained, winking at her before diving into the cold water.

"Hey!" Molly shrieked as some of it hit her.

"Much better," Sherlock pushed his hair back, and turned around to face her.

"How is it?"

"Refreshing," he replied, and Molly nodded in agreement. Seeing the usually so tense and composed Detective all relaxed and carefree was definitely refreshing.

"So, what are you waiting for?" He asked.

"Oh, I'm not getting in," she shook her head "no way..."

"Why not?"

"We're on a case, it's not appropriate..." she wanted too, she really did, but the thought of half of Scotland Yard finding her in her underwear had her tightly holding on to the edge of the pool.

"You will change your mind."

"I won't," she replied, but the detective didn't hear her as he had already disappeared under the surface, exploring the ground of the dark pool.

Molly watched – or rather admired – him with a smile on her lips. He would swim laps under the surface, coming up for air every once in a while, and giving her a nice view of his well toned body everytime he passed one of the lights.

But after a few minutes she lost sight of him. The pool was rather large, he could be on the other side of it she reasoned. But then another minute passed without a sign of him...

"Sherlock?" she stood up to have a better view. "This isn't funny! Sherlock!" No response.

Molly didn't think twice before she jumped into the water, not even bothering to take off her cotton dress.

"Sherlock!" She yelled, frantically searching for him.

"Say something, please..." She whispered, hoping that he could hear her, wherever he was...

"Someone with a medical degree should be better at saving lives," Molly quickly turned around at the sound of the familiar voice, finding Sherlock behind her.

"…You are too emotional, and it took you almost an entire minute to even notice! It wasn't easy to hold my breath for that long, I could have actually passed out."

"What is wrong with you!?" Molly pushed him away as soon as she realized what was going on.

"It was just an experiment."

"I was scared, I thought..!" She couldn't finish the sentence.

"It's ok," Sherlock tried to calm her but she wouldn't have any of it.

"It's not ok! I called your name and you didn't respond."

"Well If I had responded you wouldn't be in the water now. "

"I didn't want to get in!" She replied, splashing the water in his face for emphasis.

"Hey!" The Detective returned the gesture and before they realized it, they were engaged in a full blown water fight. The initial anger turning into laughter as they chased each other through the pool, trying to dunk the other at every opportunity they got.

"That's what you get for scaring me like that!" Molly said as Sherlock came up for air, after she had pushed him under.

"Is that the best you've got?" Sherlock quickly wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest.

"Let go of me!" She complained, trying to free herself.

"Stop struggling you don't stand a chance," he teased, but then his look got rather serious.

"Listen," he loosened his grip a little. "It was never my intention to scare you."

"People tend to get scared when they think someone they care about is in danger," Molly explained.

"Then, you must care a great deal about me."

"I..." she blushed. "You´re my friend, of course I care."

"Your heartbeat and the way you were looking at me suggests another reason."

"I think we should get out before Lestrade comes looking for us," Molly looked around a bit nervously.

"I didn't tell you but I enjoyed spending the week with you." He continued.

"The perks of air-conditioning."

"I'm going to try something, just..." He tilted his head a little, aligning their mouths to perfection.

"...hold still," and with that he closed the distance between them, meeting her lips in a soft kiss.

"Why did you do that?" Molly asked as soon as they broke apart.

"Didn't you like it?"

"I liked it! A lot! It's just why now? What changed?"

"We solved a case, It's a beautiful night, and I am having a rather enjoyable time with you. Do I need another reason?"

Molly shook her head.

"Good," The Detective replied with a smile before he brought his lips back to hers.

Molly's mind was racing, but as she felt his hands moving up and down her spine, she decided to simply enjoy the moment. Kiss now, ask Questions later.

"Sherlock..." She moaned as he found a delicate spot by her ear, before he brought his attention back to her lips, to which she responded by wrapping her legs around his waist in an attempt to stay above the surface. But soon they both gave up, letting themselves sink into the water, not coming up until the need for air forced them to.

"How´s the water?"

"Lestrade!" Sherlock greeted the Detective Inspector. "Why don't you see for yourself, just jump in. "

"Pass. And you better get out of there before I have to arrest you" Lestrade joked, unable to hide his amusement about the situation.

"On what grounds?" Sherlock objected.

"Trespassing, for once, and maybe indecent exposure if you don't slow down," Lestrade replied with a large grin.

"We were just cooling off," Molly finally spoke, briefly considering to just dive to the ground and stay there.

"Don't you mean you need to cool off?"

"Shut up, we didn't do anything wrong," Sherlock snapped back, helping Molly out of the pool before climbing out himself.

"It just happened, it' was hot and.." Molly apologized, her eyes fixed on the ground.

"It's alright," Lestrade's tone suddenly changed."I'll have someone send down some towels. Dry off and meet me at the car in five minutes, and that means five minutes not 15. Oh and Sherlock?"

"What?" Sherlock rolled his eyes in anticipation of another teasing comment.

"It was about time!"

Sherlock acknowledged the comment with a nod before Lestrade left to give the pair some privacy.

xoxo

"Why are we waiting for him? God knows where he wandered off to," Anderson whined, from the passenger seat of Lestrade's car. But his annoyance turned into horror when the Consulting Detective finally appeared.

Anderson's mouth dropped open as Molly, now wearing a men's shirt instead of the dress she had worn earlier, slid into the backseat followed by a shirtless Sherlock.

"Stop staring Anderson, we just went for a little dip in the pool while you were busy wrapping up the case that we solved."

"What..."

"So Molly, Bart's or your flat, or..." Lestrade cut in.

"Baker Street," Sherlock replied, looking at Molly for approval.

"Baker street it is," Lestrade agreed seeing Molly's smile in the rearview mirror.

Maybe heat waves weren't so bad afterall.

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><p><em>That's it, I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews and ideas are always welcome!<em>

_Love Laura_


	20. Boat

_Lots of 'thank you's, hugs, and cupcakes for all the awesome reviews and messages! _

_Here's a new one:_

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><p>"Sherlock?" Molly asked as she set foot on the small yacht, careful to avoid the police tape.<p>

"Are you down there?" When she couldn't see him, she followed the small steps that led down into the cabin, to find Sherlock staring at a bullet hole in a cabinet door.

"How is he?" he asked without turning around.

"Fine, it was just a flesh wound, looked a lot worse than it was," Molly saw him relax with every word she spoke.

"And the girl? She hit her head."

"Only a few bruises and a concussion, she'll be alright in a couple of days. Her parents wanted to thank you. Why don't you come back to the hospital with me, so you can see for yourself.

"It is my fault that she's in the hospital," he finally turned around to face her.

The case, a run-of-the-mill kidnapping, had almost been too easy. The kidnapper was hiding the victim, a three year old girl, on his boat. It had taken Sherlock less than a day to locate the small yacht, and the plan to grab her while John distracted the kidnapper with Lestrade's men waiting in line to make a move as soon as the girl was save, seemed good in theory. But then the combination of a nervous kidnapper and a crying child had caused the situation to escalate.

"I hurt the girl and let John take a bullet because I underestimated the danger."

"You couldn't have known how he would react, emotions are unpredictable," Molly tried to comfort him.

"But I could have been more careful, and not push a three year old to the ground."

"I'd be doing her autopsy right now if you hadn't."

Sherlock's eyes wandered over a small bloodstain on the ground.

"Is Lestrade still here?" After accompanying John to the hospital Sherlock had immediately returned to the crime scene, but he hadn't noticed how quiet the boat had gotten until just now.

"No it's just us."

"Why did you come here Molly?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"I just wanted to see if you're ok, you were rather distressed at the hospital and you didn't answer your phone, so I.."

"It broke," Sherlock explained.

"So I phoned Lestrade and he said you might still be here."

"You didn't have to come."

"I wanted to."

"I yelled at you," the usually so guarded Detective didn't even attempt to hide the guilt in his eyes as he remembered the look on her face when he had told her to get lost only a few hours ago.

"It's ok, you were worried about John, I shouldn't have bothered you" she wanted to comfort him, but wasn't sure how. Hugging him was out of the question, so she opted for putting her hand on his sleeve, leaving it up to him what he wanted to do with the gesture.

"Still, It wasn't right. Forgive me."

"Always," She replied, meeting his eyes in an intent gaze that lasted until Sherlock took a step back.

"We should go, I'm sure you want to see John," she added drawing her hand away.

Sherlock nodded, but didn't move. "I need a moment."

"Ok," Molly wanted to leave, but as soon as she set foot on the steps Sherlock grabbed her hand.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Instead of replying the Detective pulled her off the steps and into his arms, pressing his lips on hers in a clumsy but fierce kiss. Molly was too shocked to respond and just went limb in his arms, letting him do whatever it was that he was doing.

But then It ended as sudden as it had started.

"You just..." Molly looked at him with wide eyes.

"Traumatic experiences often increase the need for physical contact," Sherlock reasoned matter of factly, waiting for a sign of consent, and Molly gladly gave it to him. She knew that it was neither the right time nor the right place and definitely not the right reason but they would deal with that later.

"It's ok," the words were barely out as his lips crashed back down on hers. The next minutes were a frenzied haze of kissing, exploring, and pulling at each other's clothes until they found themselves in the boats small bedroom: Limbs tangled, under ruffled sheets and discarded clothing,

"That was..." Despite the messy circumstances that had led to her current position Molly didn't regret a thing. Sherlock had needed, no wanted, her in a way that she hadn't even imagined in her wildest dreams.

"Unexpected," Sherlock said, weaving his fingers through her hair, they were were both lying on their sides, facing each other, feeling the gentle movements of the boat beneath them.

"One could say that," Molly agreed, as Sherlock started to laugh.

"I think I just broke my own record of inappropriate behaviour at crime scenes."

"Oh god, I didn't even think of that," Molly put her hand over her eyes.

"We'll put everything back the way it was, it'll be like it never happened," Sherlock explained and Molly couldn't help but wonder if that comment carried a deeper meaning...

"Yes, you were upset and needed someone. It's not like this means anything, I know that," her smile was fading.

"It means something to me," Sherlock sat up, sounding almost a little offended.

"No I didn't mean..." Molly started, but then she saw the smile on his face.

"You're awful," she gave him a playful smack.

"I just shagged you in the bed of the man who shot my best friend, so I'm not going to object on that," Sherlock laughed, but Molly didn't join in.

"So are we..." She started, but then Sherlock put a finger over her lips.

"We're us, and I will ask you to join me for dinner, but what happens next is..."

"...unpredictable," Molly cut in, reflecting Sherlock's smile with her own.

xoxo

"Finally, I was getting worried that you got lost at sea," John commented as Sherlock closed the door to 221B Baker Street behind himself and Molly. The doctor was resting on the couch, his arm in a sling.

"John, you're home!" Sherlock found himself kneeling in front of his friend within seconds.

"I'm fine, they just stitched it up and released me, I've had worse. Although, this is the first time I found myself hallucinating, or were the two of you actually holding hands when you walked in?" John smiled as he noticed the sheepish look on Sherlock' face.

"You could say that I had an unusually emotional reaction to what happened on the boat, and Molly was so kind to help out," the detective looked over to where the pathologist was standing. "She's rather skilled in that department, I might add." Molly blushed at the comment.

"Well you seem rather cheerful, so whatever she did must have worked," John commented as Sherlock got up.

"I promised you dinner, but now that John's here I think it's best we stay in," he suggested,back at Molly's side.

"Oh of course. I can get take out, Chinese maybe?"

"Yes, that would be great, thank you Molly."

Molly nodded, and turned around to leave but Sherlock held on to her hand and pulled her back to him, placing a soft kiss on her lips before letting her go.

John watched the scene with wide eyes, and this time he was sure that the painkillers weren't playing tricks on his mind. Sherlock Holmes had just kissed Molly Hooper and she didn't even look flustered.

"I'll be right back," Molly said with a smile as Sherlock settled into his chair and picked up a random magazine from the coffee table.

"So how exactly did she help out?" John gave his flatmate a curious look, but Sherlock chose to ignore him.

"Fine, don't tell me, but I did just get shot, and don't think I didn't notice that your shirt is buttoned up wrong," he said with a smirk, deciding to let Sherlock getaway with it. For now.

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><p><em>Woo, this one was a little more serious than my usual fluff, but I really like the idea of Sherlock needing Molly like this – and well who are we kidding? He would do this at a crime scene (especially since the bad guy's behind bars, and there's no damage to be done).<em>

_Reviews and requests are always welcome!_

_Love Laura_


	21. Shopping

_Thanks so much for all the love you had for the last chapter! It means so much to me._

_Here´s a new one (fair warning, this might give you cavities):_

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><p>"See something you like?"<p>

"Sherlock!" Molly tried her best to sound surprised, as she turned around to face the owner of the familiar voice behind her, but her bright red cheeks and guilt ridden face were working against her.

"The store security was getting a bit worried, and wanted to escort you out ten minutes ago, but I assured them that your interest lies solely in myself and not the merchandise."

"I, I wasn't..." Molly tried to explain, wishing that the rack of cashmere jumpers behind her would just swallow her.

"Would you rather have me tell them that I was wrong, and that you're just a common shoplifter after all?"

This certainly wasn't how Molly had planed to spend her day off. Just a little shopping, maybe a piece of cake at her favourite bakery, but then she had seen him. Ever since Molly had been a little girl she had loved to check out the window displays of the stores that she couldn't afford, but not in a million years would she have thought to find Sherlock Holmes behind one of these windows, trying on clothes that cost more than her rent. Molly knew that she should have just moved on and enjoy the rest of her day but she couldn't help herself, and before she knew it she was in the store hiding behind a clothes rack, spying on the detective.

"I'm sorry, I saw you and I'm not used to seeing you outside of Bart's, especially not clothes shopping, so I..."

"Did you like the blue shirt?" He suddenly asked, not bothering to question her motives any further.

"What?"

"The blue shirt, you were smiling when I tried it on, but I wasn't quite sure about it."

"I...I liked it it brought out your eyes," she replied, a little confused that he didn't seem to be more irritated by her behaviour.

"I guess I'll take it then," with that Sherlock turned around to return to the fitting room area.

"You'll be more help, if you come with me," he added, and Molly didn't have to think twice before she followed him.

Five short minutes later the pathologist found herself on a comfortable couch infront of the fitting rooms, a steaming cappuccino infront of her, while the detective studied himself critically in the floor-length mirror.

"What do you think?" He was wearing a pair of very well tailored dark washed jeans, and a charcoal dress shirt.

"You look good. I mean it, It looks good."

"And what do you really think?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow, having detected the hesitation in her voice.

"It's...The jeans are amazing, but why don't you..." Sherlock watched with curiosity, how she studied the store for a few seconds before she picked up one of the delicate jumpers that had already admired when hiding behind them earlier.

"Try them on with this," she said, and Sherlock did as he was told.

"So..." Molly was speechless as Sherlock stepped out of the fitting room. The jeans and the navy jumper she had chosen, made him look almost approachable, soft even.

"You..." she needed a moment to regain her composure. "It looks perfect, it's nice to see you in something other than a suit."

"I don't always wear suits."

"You do around me."

"Then it's time to change that," he replied with a smile, before waving over an eager shop assistant who was already looking forward to a big commission. "I'll take everything. Send it to the register, we'll be in the women's department." The man nodded, while Molly gave Sherlock a questioning look.

"We will?" She asked, as Sherlock disappeared in the fitting room, quickly changing back into his usual suit.

"You couldn't know that I would be here, so I assume that that you came her to buy something for yourself."

"Yes but..."

"You helped me, it's only fair if I return the favour."

xoxo

"This is beautiful," Molly admired an emerald green silk dress on a mannequin.

"Try it on."

"I couldn't," She smiled, "even if I could afford it, I'd have no place to wear it. This," she picked up a simple blouse, and a pencil skirt "is more my style."

"If you say so," Sherlock watched her carry the bland ensemble into an empty fitting room.

"What is taking so long?" He asked, impatiently waiting for her to model the outfit she had picked out.

"I'm not sure it's working for me."

"Let me see," Sherlock slipped into the fitting room with her.

"You can't just come in without asking," she hissed.

"Hmm," he stood behind her, ignoring her complaint as he eyed her reflection in the mirror.

"It's adequate," he tilted his head to the right and nodded.

"Adequate?"

"Satisfactory, sufficient,"

"I know what it means Sherlock."

"Good, then do me a favour and try on the dress."

Molly sighed, "Fine, you win."

xoxo

"Hurry up, I already spent too much time in here as it is, I don't..." Sherlock complained, but his voice trailed of as he saw Molly in the green dress. The skirt came out at the waist, and hit her legs just above her knees, while the peter-pan collar and cap sleeves gave the elegant dress a playful look.

"It's too much isn't it?" She asked, a bit worried when Sherlock remained silent.

"Are you okay?" She asked, as the Detective leaned forward to whisper something into her ear.

"It's nice to see you in something other than a lab coat." The feeling of his breath against her skin send a shiver down her spine, that was followed by another one as Sherlock stepped back just far enough to lock his eyes with hers...

"I assume you'll be taking the dress, too?" The shop assistant interrupted the scene.

"Yes, and she'll keep it on," Sherlock turned back to Molly. "How do you feel about tea?"

"I'll be needing shoes," Molly replied, suddenly feeling rather confident.

"How about these?" Sherlock showed her a pair of T-strap heels, that he had been hiding behind his back.

"They're my size," Molly noted.

"Of course they are," Sherlock rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide the smile on his lips.

xoxo

"I'm glad I ran into you today," Molly commented as they made their way home, after having tea at a place that could have been right out of a fairytale.

"Those macarons we're heavenly, and thank you so much for the dress, and the shoes. You really didn't have to," she thanked him as they arrived at her flat.

"I would have bought a present for you anyway, but you being there ensured that it was the right thing."

"But...I didn't even tell you..." Molly thought out loud. "How did you...and the tea.."

"You also didn't tell me your shoe size," the Detective smiled as he leaned in to brush a soft kiss against her cheek. "Happy Birthday Molly," he whispered before he drew back and hailed himself a cab, leaving the astounded but smiling Birthday Girl behind.

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><p><em>Well wasn't this fluffy? I just liked the idea of them going shopping together. Fashionista Sherlock for the win. <em>

_Reviews and Requests are greatly appreciated._

_Love,_

_Laura_


	22. Park

_Thank you all so much for the nice reviews! _

_The idea for this chapter was "sunny autumn day", and then fluff happened:_

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><p>"I know this is not how you usually take it, but all the girls in front of me were ordering it."<p>

"What?" Molly looked up from her book to find Sherlock standing in front of her, holding two styrofoam cups.

"Sherlock? What are you doing here?" The detective was pretty much the last person Molly expected to meet on a saturday afternoon in the park.

"Here," he handed her one of the cups and sat down next to her.

"Thanks," Molly replied, rather confused about the whole situation, whereas Sherlock acted like it was an everyday occurrence to surprise her with coffee. She took a sip, hazelnut caramel latte to be specific.

"It's a nice day for a walk in the park," he answered her question.

"Really?" She gave him a curious look. "I didn't know you enjoyed walks in the park."

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, and I never said I did. I simply said that it was a nice day for one."

"Why are you really here then?"

"I was working a case."

"In the park?"

"Cheating husband, I followed him around to get proof."

"Seems a bit mundane compared to what you usually do."

"It was a favour," Sherlock took a sip from his coffee.

"Did you get it?"

"Get what?"

"Proof," she clarified.

"Do you think I would be sitting here drinking coffee with you if I hadn't?"

Molly shook her head.

"Maybe you do know a couple of things about me," he said.

"So what about you?" Sherlock went on. "Reading romance novels on a park bench while the coloured leaves tumble to the ground? Don't be a cliché Molly."

"Said the private detective who spent his day taking photographs of cheating husbands."

"Consulting detective! And I have him on video," Sherlock defended himself.

"Oh excuse me, and just so you know it was a crime novel," Molly explained, sitting up a little straighter to make a point.

"Was it good?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, it's a series. It's about this writer who... ….what are you doing?" Molly asked as Sherlock suddenly put his arm around her shoulder.

"You're my alibi," Sherlock explained, a smile on his lips as he watched the people passing them by.

"Your alibi?" Molly inquired, a little distracted by the sensation of being so close to Sherlock.

"I'd rather not have the suspect realize that I followed him, if he sees me now he will think that I came here to have coffee with my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?"

"Molly, please stop repeating everything I say."

"So you want to sit here with me while I read?"

"Exactly, now pretend you're enjoying this."

"Why wouldn't I be enjoying this?"

"It seems like a waste of time," Sherlock shrugged.

"You're sitting on an uncomfortable park bench, surrounded by all kinds of loud noises, while the reflection of the sunlight on the pages is not only bad for your eyes, it also makes it harder to read. You'd be done in a fraction of the time if you'd read it in your flat."

"Maybe I'm not in a hurry to finish my book."

"Because it is a waste of time..." Sherlock mumbled, to which Molly simply replied with an offended look before she opened her book again.

After a few minutes of silence Sherlock started shifting. "Would you mind not holding the book so close to your body? I can't see anything."

"I thought reading out here was a waste of time," Molly countered.

"It is, but I'm bored."

"Is this better?" She tried to hold the book in a way that was more comfortable for him.

"No, just...let me..." He took the book from her hands, and pulled the small woman closer to him, so that her back was resting against his shoulder, making it possible – and comfortable – for them to share the book.

"Much better," he noted, as Molly settled against his body.

"Do you want to start from the beginning?" She asked, the faintest hint of pink spreading on her cheeks. Case or not, fact was that she was actually cuddling with Sherlock Holmes on a park bench.

"No it's alright, I'll figure it out."

"Of course," Molly replied, making a mental note to thank her friend Anita who had recommended this particular spot to her.

xoxo

After a little while Molly's eyes got heavy, and paired with combination of Sherlock's even breathing and the warm sunlight she drifted of to sleep, not waking up until Sherlock closed the book with a loud thud.

"Well that turned out to be rather pleasant," he commented as Molly stirred in his arms.

"I fell asleep," the pathologist noted.

"Great deduction." Sherlock rolled his eyes about Molly's need to point out the obvious.

"What time it is?"

"Almost five."

"So I slept for almost an hour ago? Why didn't you wake me?"

"I wanted to finish the book," Sherlock explained matter-of-factly. "It wasn't half bad."

"Don't spoil it," Molly warned him.

"I was wrong."

"About what?" Molly straightened up so she could look at him.

"About this being a waste of time, it was nice," Sherlock admitted.

"We could do it again, when you're not on a case I mean. And I promise not to fall asleep again."

"Are you asking me out Dr. Hooper?"

"No, I mean I..." Molly blushed. "Forget it, it was just a thought," what was she thinking. Sherlock had more important things to do than to take her to the park.

"That's too bad, I guess we better part then," with that Sherlock got up, offering Molly a hand.

"Thanks," Molly wanted to kick herself for letting the opportunity pass.

"I have to go that way," Sherlock gestured towards the right.

Molly nodded. "My flat's that way," she pointed in the opposite direction.

"I know, and you better finish that book tonight."

"Why?"

"No spoilers, remember?" The Detective winked at her as he turned around, his dark coat billowing out behind him as he made his way through the colorful leaves that covered the ground.

xoxo

When Molly arrived at her flat an hour later, she had taken the long way home, a small brown package awaited her on her doorstep. She picked it up with curiosity and examined the outside before she untied the red satin bow that held the wrapping paper together.

She removed the paper to reveal a book with a familiar artwork on the cover.

"The sequel," she mumbled a smile spreading on her lips as she opened it to reveal a handwritten note:

_Tomorrow, 4PM. Our Spot. Bring Coffee. -SH _

"Our Spot," Molly read out loud, before she rushed inside, not even bothering to take off her coat. She had a book to finish.

* * *

><p><em>...And that's how you start a book club. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, reviews and requests are always welcome ;) <em>

_Love Laura_


	23. Serendipity

_Thanks so much for the sweet reviews on the last chapter! Here's a new one, and it's a little different... but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway:_

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><p>Molly regretted taking the short cut. No, actually she regretted the whole spending a year abroad idea, in New York City of all places. "You're spending too much time in the library, you need to go out more..." she recalled her friends voices. Her friend Jenny had given her the directions to some new bar, that was apparently the place to be, but of course she had gotten lost and – to top it off – gotten mugged, by a guy that hadn't looked much older than 15. And now there she was without her money, her phone, and the slightest clue how she was supposed to get home.<p>

She wasn't going to cry, though. No matter how cold, lost, or embarrassed she was. She would figure this out. She would... Who was she kidding, she'd probably have to spend the night on a park bench, and with that all her non crying intentions were forgotten.

"Great," she sobbed as she realized that she had taken another wrong turn, that had lead to a dead end. She stomped her foot in frustration, before she turned around and froze, as she realized that she wasn't alone anymore. But before her companion could speak, she opened her mouth.

"You're too late if you want to rob me, that already happened. But I suppose you could still rape or kill me, and leave my cold body by the trash cans, that would certainly make my first night out here memorable."

"You're not from here, are you?" The tall man was relieved that the girl seemed to be alright albeit her distraught appearance.

"At least the last guy didn't feel the need to make small talk," she sobbed.

"I saw you going in here and wanted to make sure that you were ok. "

"I bet that's what you tell all your victims."

"Do I look like a serial killer to you?"

Molly looked at him, there were worlds between the man infront of her and the kid who had mugged her earlier. He must have been a little older than her, and was wearing a pair of fitted jeans, and a black peacoat, that was buttoned up all the way. The jacket's popped up collar, and his black leather gloves, gave him a mysterious air, while his dark curls and piercing blue eyes made him look almost regal. Under different circumstances she would have been thrilled that a guy like that was taking to her, but right now he presented a threat.

"Why should I trust you? I don't even know you."

"But I know you. You're a student from England, and you're here on a scholarship. You want to be a doctor, and you got your hair cut recently, but you liked it better longer. I have to agree."

"I got it cut yesterday," she tugged her shoulder length hair back behind her ear. "Wait, how do you know that? Who are you?"

"Your knight in shining armor, now come on, there are all types of lowlifes hanging out here," with that he turned around, and Molly quickly followed him. She still wasn't sure if she could trust him or not, but her curiosity got the better of her.

"Wait!" She struggled to keep up with him, until he slowed down.

"Are you going to tell me how you knew all those things about me?"

"I didn't know them, I deduced them," he explained.

"Deduced them?"

"First of all there's obviously your accent, but you're not here on vacation, because you used the term 'trash can', so you must have been here for a while or you wouldn't have picked up on American slang. Given your age and appearance it's safe to say you're a student, and since you said it's your first night out even though the semester started over 2 months ago, you must be spending a lot of time in the library because you have to keep your grades up. And I knew about your hair, because you pushed it back eight times within the last three minutes. You just can't get used to wearing it open."

"That was amazing." Molly commented, relaxing a little as they took a turn and found themselves back on a busy street.

"I know," the stranger smiled.

"You were wrong about something though, I don't want to be a doctor. I'm studying to be a pathologist."

"And someone as dedicated to her studies as yourself would obviously correct me, so thanks for filling in the blanks."

"That's not fair, you know all about me, and I don't even know your name."

"That's one thing we have in common then," he stopped at a black town car.

"Where did you want to go? My driver will take you there," he offered.

"I was supposed to meet my friends at this bar, but the address was in my bag, along with my money, my phone and my keys. Oh my god my keys, what if..." the tears started to build up again.

"Don't worry, he probably already got rid of everything besides the money. Did you have your credit card with you?" He tried to calm her down.

"No," she wiped a tear away.

"Good so you don't have to worry about that, but you should still change your locks. Just in case."

"You're really trying to help me, aren't you?"

"My name's Sean."

xoxo

"This isn't what I expected when you offered me a drink," Molly commented, admiring the treat infront of her.

"Frozen hot chocolate, you looked like you could use some."

"You have no idea," instead of driving her home Sean had insisted to stop for a drink, and Molly was glad that she hadn't objected. Less than 30 minutes ago she had been crying in a dark alleyway, and now she was enjoying the greatest thing she had ever tasted with a guy who had the looks and charisma of a movie star. It was almost too good to be true.

"Can I ask you something?"

He nodded.

"What were you doing in that alley? You said you followed me, but your car was waiting in the opposite direction to the one I came from, so running into me was a coincidence. And I can only think of two reasons why a guy with a driver and shoes that cost more than everything I own, would hang out in a dark alley. And since we already established that you're not a serial killer, that only leaves..."

"I'm impressed," he interrupted her.

"You're not even going to deny it?" She had been right, it was too good to be true.

"You don't understand, I get bored."

"Poor little rich boy..."

"Hey, if I hadn't been so bored tonight you'd still be wandering around by yourself. Or worse."

"So if you hadn't met me, you'd be getting high right now?" she inquired.

"Probably," Sean replied, taken aback by the bluntness of the question.

"Then maybe I'm the one who saved you," she reasoned.

"Don't flatter yourself. If anyone caused me to change my plans, it's the mugger," he joked and they both laughed.

xoxo

"There we are. Do you need help to get inside?" Sean asked, as they arrived at Molly's dorm.

"No, my roommate's home," she replied, after looking up to check if the lights in her room were on.

"Good," he nodded.

"Thank you, you're one of the good guys," Molly said with a smile before she got up on her tip toes to hug him. It only lasted for a second or two, and he didn't return it, but Molly hadn't expected him to.

"Maybe I can return the favor if you ever get lost in London," she suggested, after they broke apart.

"Maybe," he nodded, a mischievous smile curving his lips.

"Can you promise me something, though?"

"I don't make promises," he replied.

"Please?" She looked at him with big eyes.

"What is it?"

"Don't get bored again."

He laughed, "Why do you care?"

"Because you did."

He smiled. "Good night."

"Good night," She replied, as she watched him leave, hoping that their paths would cross again...

*one week later*

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Tell you what?" Molly looked up to find her roommate Sam holding up a glossy magazine.

"This!" The perky blonde flopped down on Molly's bed.

"What the..." Molly's eyes went wide as she saw what Sam was pointing at.

"Ahem.." Sam cleared her throat to prepare herself for a dramatic reading of the article under the photograph, "'Secret Date at Serendipity', Sherlock Holmes, youngest son of prominent philanthropist Violet Holmes, spent his Friday night sharing desert with a mystery girl. Did the handsome Brit finally..."

Molly ripped the magazine out of Sam's hands, "Sherlock Holmes? Handsome Brit?! That bastard!"

"Wait, so you really had no idea who he was?"

"No! He said his name was Sean, I didn't know he was famous, or british... I feel like such an idiot."

"I'm sure we could find out where he's staying," Sam suggested, and Molly actually considered it for a moment, but then she shook her head.

"No, we managed to find each other once, more than 3000 miles away from home. If we're supposed to meet again we will."

"How very serendipitous," Sam joked, before she got up.

"I'm gonna grab a coffee do you wanna come?"

"No I'm good," Molly replied.

"You should frame it," The blonde teased her as she left the room, but Molly was too engrossed in the magazine to be bothered by it.

* * *

><p><em>So, that was my take on the obligatory "this how they met" chapter, and it's dedicated to Sam, who is not a perky blonde but a big believer in Serendipity. And guess what? It is almost time to start writing Christmas fics! Exciting times. <em>

_Love Laura _


	24. Serendipity II

_Here is the last minute Christmas chapter. You left me so many nice reviews for the previous chapter that I decided to write a little Christmas sequel. I hope you like it!_

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry Miss, but I can't give out information about our guests," the well dressed receptionist explained, not even looking at the young girl infront of him.<p>

"But I know him. I have proof," Molly rummaged through her bag to find the picture, that showed her with Sherlock. Thanks to her roommate's fondness of tabloids it hadn't been too hard to figure out where the mysterious Sherlock Holmes was living, it was getting to him that turned out to be the real problem.

"Look, that's me with Sherlock."

"A paparazzi picture is hardly any proof."

"Please, can't you at least call him, and tell him that the girl from the alley is here?"

"The girl from the alley?" He finally looked at Molly.

Molly sighed in frustration "It's a long story."

"I'm sure it is, but Mr. Holmes is out for lunch right now."

"Do you know when he will be back?"

"I don't. Merry Christmas, now shoo.."

Molly sighed, but just as she was ready to give up a familiar head of dark curls entered the lobby.

"Sher..." She wanted to make herself noticed, but stopped when she realized that he seemed to be engaged into some kind or argument with the man who had come in with him.

"Mr. Holmes!" The receptionist exclaimed and both men turned around.

The older of the two seemed to be rather annoyed about the interruption while Sherlock's face immediately lit up upon seeing Molly, and before she even realized what was happening he was standing infront of her and brushed a kiss against her cheek.

"Play along, I'll explain later," he whispered before drawing back.

"I am terribly sorry, I hope you didn't have to wait too long, My brother insisted on having dessert," he added as the other man joined them.

"Are you going to introduce me to your friend?" The stern looking man gave her a quick once-over.

"I'm disappointed, didn't your monkeys inform you about my secret girlfriend? It was in the papers."

"I'm Molly," Molly introduced herself.

"Mycroft Holmes, and I'm sorry but Sherlock doesn't have time for you right now. He has a Christmas party to attend."

"You have a Christmas party to attend. I told you that I already made other plans."

"Mummy will be so disappointed if you don't make an appearance."

"She will be even more disappointed if she hears that I broke my promise to take Molly Ice Skating."

Mycroft sighed in frustration "Ice skating?"

"Yes, I heard that's something people do at Christmas."

"It's fun," Molly added with a smile.

"You want to go ice skating dressed like this?" Mycroft gestured at Sherlock's suit.

"Obviously not, I was just about to go upstairs to change. So if you would excuse us," with that he took Molly by her hand and lead her towards the elevator.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft was fuming by now.

"Merry Christmas!" Sherlock replied waving at his brother as the elevator doors closed behind him and Molly.

"I knew rescuing you would pay off one day," Sherlock explained.

"What did just happen?"

"You got me out of attending a very boring party."

"Oh, you're welcome, nice accent by the way."

Sherlock laughed. "It was convincing, wasn't it?"

"Do you have any idea how stupid I felt when I saw that picture? I offered to show you around London for God's sake."

"Which was very thoughtful."

The elevator stopped with a ping. "This is my floor." He announced, and Molly followed him into his suite.

"Help yourself to whatever you want," he gestured to the bar as he passed it on his way into the bedroom, not bothering to close the door behind him.

"Thanks I'm good," She replied, as he kicked off his dress shoes, and threw his jacket onto the bed, before he disappeared into his bathroom Molly tried her best not to stare as he emerged in a worn pair of jeans and a light blue shirt, that was hanging wide open, exposing most of his toned chest.

"So what brings your here? And don't tell me that you just wanted to wish me a merry Christmas."

"Maybe I just wanted to see how you were doing." Molly replied, watching him button up his shirt, before he picked up a navy jumper from the floor.

"Even though I lied to you?" He shook the garment out and put it on.

"I guess I like a good mystery." She replied,

"Well you chose the perfect day to solve it," he put his boots on, and grabbed his black pea coat.

"Ready?"

"For what?" She gave him a confused look.

"Ice skating."

"You were serious about that?"

"Obviously, and I don't want to give my brother the satisfaction of being right. He didn't believe a word I said."

"Fine, but I won't go with you until you properly introduce yourself."

"I'm Sherlock Holmes, 21 years old, born and raised in London, England. Blood type B negative."

"Molly Hooper," she replied, making it official with a handshake.

xoxo

"Why did you suggest ice skating when you've never done it before?" Molly asked, warming her hands on a steaming cup of hot chocolate.

"It was the first thing that came to my mind when I saw you in that pink bobble hat."

"So my hat almost killed you," Molly laughed.

"I was doing just fine!"

"No you weren't," she teased him. "Oh look that little girl who was laughing at you is doing tricks."

"I should have gone to my mother's party," Sherlock complained, rolling his eyes.

"It was your mother's party?"

"Yes."

"Don't you want to be with your family on Christmas Eve?"

"You met my brother."

"Still they're your family, you should be with them."

"A few years ago my father was having an affair, and I was the one to break the news to the rest of the family at the Christmas dinner table. In retrospect it probably wasn't the best thing to do, but it made sense at the time. It ended in a very messy, very public, divorce, which was the beginning of my mother's career as the great philanthropist, as she started to throw father's money at every charity she could find. Now Christmas is merely another occasion to save politically oppressed polar bears before feeding them to starving children on Boxing Day."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. If I'd be trimming a tree right now, you'd be alone too, which is why you came isn't it?"

"All my friends went home for the holidays, My parents wanted to send me a plane ticket, but I told them not to. I figured I could just stay at the dorm, and get some reading done, but then the picture of us at Serendipity fell out of my book and..."

"I'm glad you came," Sherlock cut her off. "And not just because it got me out of the party."

"And I'm glad that I got a chance to get to know Sherlock, I think I like him even better than Sean," She explained, taking a sip from her beverage.

"Do you want to stay with me tonight?"

Molly almost swallowed on her drink.

"Not like that, you can sleep on the couch," he clarified. "But it wouldn't feel right to send you back to your empty dorm, no one should be alone on Christmas."

Molly pondered for a moment, but then she nodded, "I'd love to, but it's still too early to go back to the hotel, so how about we get back on the ice, that little mean girl is gone now."

"Do you promise to catch me when I fall?"

"Always."

xoxo

The next morning Sherlock woke up to the sound of quiet cursing from the living room. Eager to find it's source he got up and entered the living room, where Molly was trying to push a potted plant across the floor.

"What are you doing?" He asked, trying not to laugh.

"Putting the Christmas tree up?" it sounded more like a question than an answer.

"it looks familiar."

"It was infront of the elevator, I didn't think they'd mind if we'd borrow it for a few hours."

"And the decorations?" He pointed at the ornaments that were resting on the coffee table.

"From the big tree in the lobby."

"You got past the receptionist?"

Molly replied with a proud smile, "I just wanted to give you a nice Christmas memory. But it was supposed to be a surprise."

"Oh I am surprised. No one has ever stolen a potted box tree for me."

"Borrowed," she clarified.

"Where do you want this?"

"What?"

"The tree."

"Oh, I think over there by the window would be nice."

"Ok, give me a hand?"

"Sure," Molly replied, before helping Sherlock to carrie their makeshift tree across the room.

"Ornaments?" He asked, once the tree was in place.

"Here," she wanted to get one of the red glass bulbs, but Sherlock grabbed her hand and pulled her in for a kiss. At first Molly was too shocked to respond, but as he let go of her hand to wrap his arms around her, she slowly relaxed and started to enjoy it.

"What was that for?" She opened her eyes, to find his looking back at her.

"We can't have a christmas tree without presents, and this was the best I could do under these conditions. I hope it didn't disappoint."

"That tree was really heavy..." Molly replied, hoping that he would get the hint. And of course he did.

"Merry Christmas Molly Hooper," with that he continued right where they had left of.

* * *

><p><em>Merry Christmas! This turned out so much cheesier than planed, but it's Christmas what can I do? Ianyway, hope you are all having amazing holidays, and remember: reviews make the best presents. <em>

_Love Laura _


	25. Goodbye

_So I usually don't do tags, or missing scenes, but there was just no way I could not write this._

_Spoilers for His Last Vow._

* * *

><p>This was it, Molly though as she poured herself a glass of wine. <em>'Have a great life Molly Hooper',<em> the text message flashed before her eyes. Deep down she had always known that it would end like this, and maybe it was a good thing. A clean cut, a chance to move on...

She picked up a book, in a attempt to get her mind off of him, but she didn't even make it to the bottom of the first page before a knock on the door disturbed her.

"Molly," the detective greeted her when she opened it.

"Sherlock..."

"Can I come in?"

"Yes, of course," Molly stepped aside to let him in.

"You redecorated," he observed as he stepped into her living room.

"Well, it's been almost three years since..."

"Right..." He took a deep breath. "Would you make some tea?"

"Sure," Molly gave him a curious look, before she disappeared into her kitchen to put the kettle on. When she came back, he was sitting on her couch, his coat draped over the armrest.

"It'll be ready in a minute," she said, as she joined him.

"The new curtains are lovely," he stated matter of factly.

Molly sighed "Shouldn't you be packing, or..." the rest of her sentence was cut off when he leaned in to kiss her.

Molly's initial instinct was to pull back, but Sherlock just followed, not stopping until he had made his point. Whatever that was...

"You kissed me..." Molly commented as he broke away from her.

"I did," he was cupping her cheek, brushing his thumb over the soft skin, as he looked into her questioning eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I owe you a little more than a text message..." Sherlock explained.

Molly blinked "Are you.."

"I'm suggesting something more intimate," he interrupted her, making his intentions perfectly clear.

"Wow, after all this..." she pushed his hand away, and got up to bring some distance between them.

"You can't just wish me a nice life, and then show up here and..."

"I thought you wanted this!" Sherlock was visibly confused by her reaction.

"I do! But not like this. You had a million chances, it wouldn't have killed you to have coffee with me, just once..."

"It's not that simple," his voice was shaking.

"You should leave."

"Molly..."

"Stop it," Molly's eyes drifted to the floor so he wouldn't notice the tears that were building up in them.

"No," he got up and walked over to her, lifting her chin up with his index finger to look at her.

"Do you remember the night we first met?"

"Yes," Molly nodded, wondering where this was going.

"You had just finished your shift when I came in..."

"You needed help with an experiment..."

"And you stayed, because I promised to buy you dinner after..."

"Which you never did, you just left while I was in the locker room. I felt so stupid..."

"I only left because I liked you," Sherlock explained.

"That doesn't make sense, why would you..."

"I thought you were just some girl I could use, but then I realized how good you were, and how much I enjoyed your company."

"I still don't get it."

"I guess you could say that I let you down, because I wanted to spare you the disappointment of falling in love with a sociopath."

"That's awfully considerate for a sociopath," she rolled her eyes.

"I have my moments," he couldn't help but smile.

"It didn't work, you know..."

"How was I supposed to know that you'd be so damn persistent?"

"You're Sherlock Holmes," Molly replied and they both laughed.

"Right," his expression got serious again. "I'm sorry if I offended you. I thought it was a good idea, one night, no regrets. But I understand that it's too late, and will respect your wishes," he took a step back and extended his hand to her.

"Have a great life, Molly Hoo..." he was cut of by the whistling of the kettle.

"You might as well stay for a cup now, it was your idea after all."

"Not what I had in mind, but I take it."

*xoxo*

Molly woke up to the sensation of Sherlock's lips on hers, but instead of finding him lying next to her as she had expected, she found him sitting on the edge of her bed, fully dressed, and ready to leave.

"Don't get up," he whispered, as she sat up.

"What time is it?"

"Time to go."

"I know I can't keep you from leaving, but I want to come to the airport. I'll be quick, I'll just grab my coat..."

"No."

"But..."

"If you come, there'll be tears..."

"I won't cry, I promise."

"I wasn't talking about you," he joked, but Molly couldn't laugh.

"Hey, you promised," he cupped her face, and brushed a tear away.

"Sherlock I.." She started, but Sherlock cut her off with one last, desperate, kiss.

"I told you that's a bad idea."

"Don't care," she replied, trying her best to put her brave face on as Sherlock got up.

"I know," he placed a soft kiss on the top of her head, and disappeared through her bedroom door. No regrets.

* * *

><p><em>Don't be sad, we all know that he'll be back (I might even elaborate on that in the next chapter). And hey, who knows maybe this actually happened. A girl can dream. Reviews make my day ;)<em>

_Lots of Love Laura._


	26. Hello

_Not Dead. _

_I know it's been ages, but school was brutal this spring, and filled up all my writing time. But better late than never, right? Anyway, I figured a follow-up to the previous chapter was the best way to come back from my hiatus, and since I do spend a lot of time at flower shows I had to murder a gardener... _

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you don't want to take the day off?" John asked as he followed Sherlock through the crowd. "Lestrade said he has it covered."<p>

"He has been wrong before, and I want a case," Sherlock replied.

"You just solved a pretty big one, getting some rest might be a good idea..."

"I don't need rest, I need a case!" Sherlock snapped at him.

"...and help with that," John muttered under his breath. "Well, I guess it's not every day that someone gets murdered at a flower show."

"You'd be surprised..." Sherlock replied, unimpressed by the colourful displays around him.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Sherlock lifted up the police tape and entered the white tent, but stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw the body or rather who was examining it.

"Molly," he whispered.

"Sherlock," Lestrade greeted the Detective. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to offer my help, but I see that you have it covered."

"As I already told you on the phone. Henry Bug, 53 year old male, he was stabbed by his opponent in the show garden competition, the price was a a golden shovel – also the murder weapon."

"That's great," Sherlock replied absentmindedly.

"I think the victim would disagree," Lestrade said, but Sherlock didn't listen as he was too busy staring at the pathologist – the pathologist who had yet to notice his presence. She was, in fact, so involved in her work, that she also didn't notice how the shelf under which the body had been found, had been damaged in the struggle, and was about to give in under the weight of the potted plants on it. At least not until someone pulled her away, right before the heavy terracotta pots came crashing down…

"Thank you," Molly's eyes grew wide as she realized who had saved her. It had been three weeks since he showed up at her flat in the middle of the night, three weeks since they had agreed to part as friends, and three weeks since they had broken that agreement. Three weeks since she had kissed him goodbye...

"How are you?" She asked.

"Still here."

"I can see that," she replied and their eyes met for a second before John interrupted the scene.

"Jesus, are you ok?"

"Yes, just a little shaken up. Thanks to Sherlock," Molly replied.

"Oh no," Lestrade sighed as he realized that while Molly had been spared, Mr. Bug hadn't been so lucky.

"Look at the bright side, you don't have to burry him anymore," Sherlock joked, earning scolding looks from John and Lestrade.

"Too soon?"

"Definitely," John replied, and Sherlock just nodded before he turned back to Molly.

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok, you were busy," Molly replied with a nervous smile.

"What are you apologizing for?" Lestrade asked.

"That's none of your business. Come on John we're leaving. It was good to see you Molly," with that Sherlock turned around on his heel, leaving before Molly got a chance to respond.

"Did I miss something?" John asked as soon as they were outside.

"I slept with Molly," Sherlock replied, nervously fidgeting with his phone, wishing that it would turn into a cigarette.

"I'm sure she.. wait what?" John stopped, much to Sherlock's annoyance.

"That's why I wanted to come here," he pulled John away from the path. "I needed time to figure out what to do. A nice simple case, no need for research, avoid the lab for a few days. But of course she had to be here…"

"You slept with Molly?" John repeated, a look of disbelieve on his face.

"Yes, do keep up John."

"You slept with Molly," John still tried to comprehend what was going on. "When?"

"The night before I was supposed to leave. And before you ask, we didn't get drunk."

"Wow... Mary's gonna love this."

"Do you have actual advice, or are you just gonna stand there with your mouth open?"

"You slept with Molly, and you want my advice?"

Sherlock sighed. "I don't do relationships, that's your area."

"So you want a relationship with her? An actual relationship?"

"For god's sake..." Sherlock was getting impatient. "I can't just pretend that nothing happened, nor do I want to."

"Well, for starters I'd tell her what you just told me, and then you'll take it from there.

Even though she felt bad for the poor Mr. Bug, Molly was grateful for the extra work. The more time she spend working, the less time she had to spend on trying to figure out what was going on in the head of a certain Consulting Detective. Convinced that he had left by the time she was done, she threw on her coat and stepped out of the tent, the evening sun blinding her for a moment.

"I thought you'd never come out of there," Sherlock suddenly appeared by her side.

"You're still here, then," she stated, and Sherlock knew that she wasn't just talking about the flower show.

"Yes."

"And you're staying?"

"Yes again."

"Oh..." she nodded.

"I thought you'd be happier about that..."

"I am, it's just…" she tried to find the right words. "I know that what happened happened because you were leaving. But you came back, and I understand that that changes…" before she could finish the sentence Sherlock grabbed her arm and pulled her into a garden house, slamming the door shut behind them.

"What are you doing?" Molly asked as Sherlock leaned in to kiss her.

"John told me to tell you how I feel, but talking about feelings has never been my forte," he explained, his lips grazing hers.

"How about you show me then?"It was a challenge.

"Mine or yours?" he whispered, sending shivers down her spine, before he finally closed the distance between them, rendering his question irrelevant.

He lifted her up, to put her down on the upholstered bench that framed the tight space. Molly moaned in response, and scooted back on the seat, giving him better access...

A brilliant idea, she decided as she felt his teeth grazing the sensitive skin on her neck, after his lips had wandered over her jawline.

"Sherlock..." not having relinquished all her sense of rationality yet, Molly tried to remind him of their current – very public – location.

"Don't worry," his right hand slid up under her thin jumper making her arch beneath him. "They're about to close," he shifted slightly, making her all too aware of the fact that she wasn't the only one enjoying this. "We just have to be quiet until the..."

He was interrupted by a knock on the door. "I don't want to disturb you," John started. "But you are aware that this thing has windows, right?"

Sherlock lifted his head, the smile on his lips equally apologetic and mischievous, "Point made?"

"Point made," Molly smiled, as he stood up, pulling her up with him.

Sherlock helped her into her coat, that she could not even remember taking off, and opened the door for her.

"So you worked it out then?" John greeted them.

"Something like that," Sherlock plucked a rose from one of the bushes in the garden and offered it to Molly.

"Those are for show you can't do that!"

"Don't worry, if Mycroft tries to exile me again, I'm taking you with me."

"You better!" She quickly took the rose and hid it behind her back, while John just shook his head. This was going to be interesting.

* * *

><p><em>This turned out a lot fluffier (and sexier) than intended, but what can I say, I just couldn't stop them. Reviews are greatly appreciated (especially because it's my birthday on tuesday), and feel free to leave prompts, I'm always looking for inspiration. <em>

_Love, Laura _


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